


Sub Rosa

by Dragonlingdar



Series: Beneath the Roses [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abusive Parents, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Frenemies, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Child Abuse, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 265,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26221450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonlingdar/pseuds/Dragonlingdar
Summary: When Lorenz is assigned to handle diplomatic relations with Almyra, he is less surprised than he thought he'd be to discover exactly who he is dealing with. However, that is not the only surprise in store for him...
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Series: Beneath the Roses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157267
Comments: 150
Kudos: 251





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Grad school starts again, stress writing starts again :D This is inspired by Claude and Lorenz's end card. I don't know how long it will be--probably longer than anticipated.
> 
> As always, nothing belongs to me; I play in this sandbox purely for the funsies.

Lorenz found himself not surprised by the fact that Claude was the Almyran King--all his talk of ‘busting open Fodlan’s throat,’ emphasis on how much of an  _ outsider _ he was before and during his tenure as leader of the Alliance, and lack of adherence to the tenants of Seiros all hinted that he probably wasn’t a Fodlan native. His disparaging comment about the pirates who pretended to be the Almyran navy from their time as students also made more sense in light of the revelation. 

While the new information made him even more glad that their professor had decided to take on the rulership of Fodlan--Claude likely would have made a hack-job of it all, even if Almyra was purportedly prospering--it also engendered...quite a few other emotions that Lorenz wasn’t entirely sure what to do with. When Claude had vanished after the war with only a goodbye to the Professor, Lorenz had been oddly  _ wounded _ , even if he intellectually knew he shouldn’t be. After all, he and Claude were uneasy acquaintances at best, weren’t they? Yet, he hadn’t been lying to Claude when he said a life without the other man would be ever so dull, and was irked to discover that he hadn’t been  _ wrong _ about that. The fact that he had developed a ‘mental Claude’ against whom he double-checked his decisions during the time when he had been assigned governance of much of the former Leicester lands was  _ irritating _ . 

He was also frustratingly  _ flattered _ that Claude had reached out to him when he (Lorenz) sought to establish better relations with the surrounding countries, even if House Goneril sat at the border and Claude and Hilda had been much better friends. That the tone of the exceedingly formal and official letter had held an almost apologetic undercurrent was bewildering to Lorenz, and he found himself reluctantly looking forward to meeting Claude again.

Of course, he hadn’t  _ told _ anyone who ‘King Khalid’ was in truth--save for the Professor, naturally, as they were required to know, and Hilda, since they were using her territory for the summit--as Foldan was still strongly isolationist and he didn’t know how some of the residents would respond. If he was successful in establishing a peaceable and profitable treaty with Almyra, it would be known for generations to come, so he  _ desperately _ wanted to have as many factors on his side as possible. 

The day of the summit dawned bright and clear, and Lorenz had found sleep only through sheer force of will and a stubborn refusal to look anything but his best when encountering Claude for the first time in years. He was still more nervous than he would have preferred, and how poorly Hilda was suppressing a  _ smirk _ was irksome. 

“If you have something to say, simply say it,” Lorenz commented as they waited for Claude to arrive.

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you so nervous, Lorenz,” Hilda said as she casually tossed some of her hair over her shoulder. 

“A great deal is riding on this treaty,” Lorenz responded primly. “If successful, the Gloucester name-- _ my _ name--will never be lost to history.”

“You know, you don’t have to lie to  _ me _ ,” Hilda commented. “You’re looking forward to seeing him, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lorenz huffed. “He was nothing but a nuisance during both our schooling and when he was leader of the Alliance. I am looking forward to seeing him as much as I look forward to, to...to traveling in the rain. An occasional necessary evil, but not one I relish.”

Hilda simply shook her head, her smirk remaining firmly in place.

Before Lorenz could find a way to defend himself further, there was a commotion at the doors, which were abruptly swung wide open to the cry of, “King Khalid of Almyra!”

There were numerous, audible gasps as people  _ recognized _ Claude--how could they not, him having once led the Alliance?--as the man entered with his typical, overconfident, irritating swagger, a wide, cocksure smile on his face. 

Shivers of annoyance crawled up and down Lorenz’s spine, causing him to stand even straighter, and only practice and necessity kept the burgeoning hostility from showing on his face. Being confident was, of course, a good bargaining strategy, but how Claude acted--and the clear joy some felt upon seeing him again--grated. 

_ I work exceedingly hard to help implement progressive policies and rebuild a shattered nation, and the minute he walks in, all attention and admiration is on him, _ Lorenz thought with no small touch of bitterness.  _ Wonderful. I’m sure I’ll be hearing constant comparisons of us once more, with myself consistently the wanting.  _

Lorenz nevertheless managed to fix a polite smile on his face and gave Claude a bow the exact depth that their stations necessitated.

“Welcome...Your Majesty,” Lorenz said, his voice carefully neutral. “Fodlan thanks you for your willingness to parlay.”

Claude’s smile never faltered, instead  _ widening _ as he did the highly undignified thing of throwing an arm around his (Lorenz’s) shoulders. “C’mon, Lorenz, no need to be so formal.”

Lorenz pointedly shrugged Claude’s arm off. “Would it kill you to act with  _ some _ decorum?” Lorenz snapped. “This is official business between our respective nations. Our history may help smooth the road before us, but you are here as  _ king _ and I am the representative of Fodlan.”

There was a flash of humor in Claude’s eyes, even if his expression did become almost  _ mockingly _ solemn. “Of course. Lead the way, Count Gloucester. We have much to discuss.”

“Oh, even if he’s being a sourpuss, it’s great to see you again, Claude!” Hilda said once they began to walk towards the meeting room where the official talks would be held, linking her arm in Claude’s, which made the man chuckle and smile fondly. 

_ Goddess preserve my sanity, _ Lorenz sighed to himself as the two bantered between themselves.  _ Can neither of them act responsible and with the due propriety? _

The room had once been where House Goneril held its tactical and war meetings, meant to defend against Almyra--now, the more martial aspects had been cleared and a round table set up where the diplomatic discussions could take place. Claude and his retinue had agreed to stay for at least the night, so after the summit, there would be a party, hopefully celebrating the new, beneficial relationship between the two nations. Lorenz personally doubted it would take only  _ one _ day, but this summit was meant to be a starting point, not the be-all-end-all. He would, in all likelihood, have to spend more time in Claude’s presence, which left him…strangely unsettled. 

However, once everyone had settled at the table, much of Lorenz’s apprehensions and uncertainty melted away. Much as Claude was, Lorenz had been raised to rule, as the Duke Reigan hadn’t possessed an heir for  _ years _ , so the language of politics, the subtle maneuvering, the cultured, cutting words were almost  _ relaxing _ to him. Throughout the meeting, however, he had the sneaking suspicion that Claude frequently mocked him, and the smiles that were exchanged covertly only caused both his certainty and frustration to deepen. 

_ Even now, when I am the representative of an entire nation, when I have the trust of the Professor, he still sees me as his lesser, _ Lorenz thought.  _ In his eyes, we have never been equals and we still aren’t. Foolish of me to think that he had changed at all, that he would see me as something other than an annoyance to suffer through in order to achieve his grandiose dreams. _

To all accounts, the summit went exceedingly well, but Lorenz could never quite shake the feeling that he was being humored, being talked down to and around, that he wasn’t being  _ seen _ \--which made all that the summit accomplished, all the ‘concessions’ he received seem hollow, rehearsed, given to him out of pity and amusement instead of genuine recognition of his skills.

Whenever Claude was involved, all of Lorenz’s efforts were meaningless. History would remember the generosity of the Almyran king, not the hard work of the Count Gloucester, and it left a bitter taste in Lorenz’s mouth. The summit would be known as one of Claude’s ‘schemes’, not as the result of outreach and diplomacy on Lorenz’s part. It made Lorenz want to withdraw, to shun the celebration, because what were they celebrating? Certainly not his achievements. Merely Claude’s triumphant return to Fodlan’s politics. 

Still, it would be  _ highly _ unbecoming, and he had a noble standard to uphold, so in spite of his own feelings, Lorenz attended--and was summarily unsurprised when nearly everyone in the room gravitated to Claude, who clearly reveled in the attention and admiration. 

_ It is always those who work the hardest who are the most easily forgotten, _ Lorenz thought as he sipped at the surprisingly good wine that had been provided for the celebration.  _ I brought the Alliance territories back from the brink, and yet…this will be known as Claude’s day, not mine. Damn him. _

It was not mere speculation that made Lorenz think so--not when he heard people constantly laughing over the event being just another of Claude’s  _ schemes _ . What vision, to have such a long-term plan! And to even work with his former enemy and rival! Such magnanimity!

Lorenz left perhaps a little earlier than socially acceptable, but it seemed that in order to praise Claude, someone had to put  _ him _ down, and there was no requirement for him to endure such slander and abuse. It wasn’t as if he could change their minds--if they still thought so poorly of him, even after the years of labor and care on Lorenz’s part, nothing he could do or say would modify their perception. 

However, he was too wound up--and more than a little tipsy--to head straight to bed, so found his way to the hedge maze that House Goneril had on their property. It was purportedly used to help train in stealth and perception, but Lorenz appreciated the varied roses that were used in its creation, and frequently stopped to enjoy either the scent of them, the feeling of the delicate, soft petals between his fingers, or the vibrant colors. It kept his mind from circling around the hurt that pulsed in his chest. 

_ How unbecoming of me, to sulk so, _ Lorenz thought as he wandered aimlessly in the hedge maze.  _ But, can I truly be blamed? Overshadowed, insulted, disregarded...no man should have to suffer such indignities and affronts. Not when he has tried to undo all the negativity surrounding his legacy. _

He distantly heard someone else making their way through the hedge maze, but paid them little mind--it was likely merely someone else seeking privacy for one thing or another. They were almost certainly not looking for him. Who would care to? At best, he was a star in the night sky--useful as a guide only when the sun wasn’t visible. 

Lorenz allowed himself one heavy, almost  _ mournful _ sigh as he reached the center of the maze, and the small shrine to the Goddess and the Saints that laid at its heart. It was  _ strange _ to think that he had known Saint Seiros, had fought two of the Saints and counted the other two as companions-in-arms, and that the Professor was the incarnation of the Goddess. Those revelations had set everything he believed in on its head, and he still hadn’t fully recovered his faith fully. He wasn’t sure he ever would. 

“There you are!”

Lorenz  _ twitched _ , then turned away from the shrine to face the reason he had left the party early.

“Your Majesty,” Lorenz drawled in response, allowing a slight mocking tone to creep in. “To what do I owe the  _ honor _ of your presence?”

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Claude said and walked over, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re the  _ last _ person I want to hear call me that.”

Lorenz crossed his arms over his chest. “Grew tired of your many admirers, did you?”

“You could say that, I guess,” Claude said and walked over, although came to an abrupt stop with some distance yet between them. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Then speak,” Lorenz replied. “I’m sure people are already starting to look for you, so make it quick.”

Claude huffed an exasperated sigh. “Right you are. I’ve heard you’ve made strides with diplomatic relations with Dagda and Sreng.”

“I have, yes,” Lorenz said, smirking faintly, a pleasant glow kindled in him at the reminder of the diplomatic successes. “Although Petra and Sylvain have both been invaluable in that pursuit. Dagda and Brigid were always close, so being on friendly terms with their queen provided me an inroad I don’t think we’ve had before; Sylvain, for how annoying he can be, is a smooth talking charmer, and has enough knowledge and history with the area to know how to approach its people correctly. I’m glad they joined our class.”

“I’ve heard it’s not just them, though,” Claude said. “People outside of Fodlan know  _ your _ name, Lorenz.”

Warmth that had nothing to do with his buzz flowed through Lorenz and he said, “Is that so? Then it’s even more the shame that this summit will be known as your grandest scheme and not a result of concerted efforts on my part to get a hold of a notoriously difficult to pin down king.”

“I’ve had to deal with a lot of assassination attempts, so I’ve had to be extra careful,” Claude replied with a shrug. “And while peace with Fodlan  _ has _ been a dream of mine for decades, it couldn’t come true without a willing partner in Fodlan. I’m glad I’m dealing with you, Lorenz. Our history and your bargaining skills makes it clear that this is a meeting of equals, and that any concessions are hard-won.”

Lorenz gave a short, sharp laugh. “Nonsense. The whole of this summit is abuzz with how generous you are, your visionary nature and lofty goals. They have me being played by you, another victim of your schemes and tactics, not an equal.”

Claude frowned sharply at that. “That’s not--Lorenz, that’s not true.”

“Is it not?” Lorenz asked dryly. “You’ve never seen me as your equal, Claude, admit it. I’ve always been, at best, an annoyance, a hindrance to your dreams and aspirations. That’s all I am now to you, as well.”

Claude idly played with one of the decorative coins on his waist-sash before saying, “Okay, back in the Officers Academy, you were a certifiable pain. ‘Noble’ this, ‘noble’ that, with a stick so far up your ass I was surprised you could  _ walk _ . I understood your resentment--you were being raised to become the next Alliance leader before I just waltzed onto the scene. I was, in all honestly,  _ surprised _ when you kept your malice to mere talk and didn’t actually try to kill me. In truth, it made you seem  _ weak _ , as if you lacked conviction to follow through on your goals and ideals.”

Lorenz bristled. “I would  _ never _ stoop so low as to attempt to assassinate a rival.”

“I know that now, but remember--I was the son of the Almyran king and a foreigner--a foreigner that most Almyrans thought weak and duplicitous. People have been trying to kill me from before I could  _ walk _ . That you snipped and insulted me seemed childish, petty, and ineffectual. You  _ were _ just a nuisance.”

“I suppose I’m pleased to know that I was able to read that much correctly,” Lorenz muttered in reply, shoving down a surprising spike of pain.

“I wasn’t really good at hiding my distaste for you,” Claude admitted with a wry smile. “But...that’s changed.”

“Has it really? You’re a  _ king _ now, Claude, and were the leader of the Alliance,” Lorenz said. “I have always only existed in your shadow. It feels like a pittance that you mention you see me as an equal.”

“Teach has entrusted you with the former-Alliance lands, which makes you more-or-less a Duke,” Claude said. “While that isn’t the same level as a king, it’s only a step below.”

“A significant one,” Lorenz insisted. “Although I suppose that  _ you _ recognizing my position and influence counts for something. People respond to your light, charisma, and authority in a way they do to little else.”

“Well, it’s nice to finally be  _ liked _ after being hated for so long,” Claude said. “Took long enough to win them over. There’s really only one person I don’t think I’ve completely won over to my side, though.”

“Oho, finally found someone resistant to your charms, have you?”

“You could say that,” Claude hedged. “I’m surprised that you’re not here with a Lady Gloucester.”

“I have been too busy to find a wife,” Lorenz said. “And all the suitable noblewomen from our time at the Academy have found themselves other partners. I suppose I truly must have been insufferable back then. There simply hasn’t been time for social engagements since the war ended--Fodlan was in rough shape. I noticed there was no mention of a Queen when you finally responded to my invitation.”

“Building a new world order isn’t exactly  _ easy _ ,” Claude replied with a strangely bitter smirk. “A lot of the Almyran noblewomen still look at me and see a man with a dual, weaker bloodline.”

Lorenz scoffed. “Clearly they don’t know what strength truly is.”

Claude hummed noncommittally. “I was thinking of asking Hilda to marry me, since we get along so well, but before I could even bring up the topic, she showed off the ring she created to ask Marianne to marry her. She looked so genuinely  _ happy _ that I discarded that plan.”

“I’m surprised--both that you are willing to give up so easily and that you don’t have some kind of scheme for a political marriage.”

“Who said I don’t?”

Lorenz shook his head. “Silly me. Of course you do. Is she a noble from Morfis? Sreng? Those would be the closest and most advantageous nations.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a scheme if I revealed it to you, now would it?” Claude said, a slight tease to his tone. 

Lorenz shook his head disparagingly. “You always did love your secrets.”

“Because Teach is so busy with running the country, I was wondering if  _ you _ could be my point of contact with Fodlan,” Claude said, catching and holding Lorenz’s eyes. “While House Goneril is closest to the border, Hilda is going to be busy with wedding preparations soon, and Holst is a soldier without the skills needed for diplomacy.”

“The Professor has already assigned diplomatic relations with Almyra to me, so you needn’t ask--it was going to be a point of conversion tomorrow as we wrap up the summit.”

Claude nodded nearly imperceptibly, and Lorenz could almost see the wheels working in his head--not that he knew nor cared about what thoughts Claude was entertaining, just that he was thinking quite hard.

“Well, that’s good,” he eventually stated with surprising firmness. “I would rather deal with you than anyone else.”

“Should I be flattered?” Lorenz asked, a half-disbelieving laugh escaping him.

“Up to you,” Claude said with a strangely easy smile. “I know where I stand with you, Lorenz, and in the political world, that’s invaluable.”

“It is hard to determine friends and enemies sometimes, this is true,” Lorenz admitted. “But I doubt I will ever know where I stand with you and your schemes.”

Claude’s smile grew uncomfortably mischievous. “I hope that, one day, you’ll figure it out.”

A strange, yet comfortable, silence fell between them, and Lorenz said, “I plan on retiring now. The summit day starts early, so make sure you are well rested. It won’t be any easier a day of negotiations for you, I promise.”

Claude laughed. “I look forward to it, Lorenz. Do you think you could show me back to the guest quarters? I got a bit turned around and am glad I happened to run into you.”

Lorenz  _ highly _ doubted that Claude had gotten lost, although that led to the conclusion that he had been actively looking for him (Lorenz), which was...uncomfortable on a number of levels.

“If I must,” Lorenz pseudo-agreed. “Come along.”

“I forgot how nice the weather is this time of year,” Claude said after a long moment of comfortable silence as they wound their way through the hedge maze. 

“It is better than usual,” Lorenz replied. “Although I consider it...auspicious.”

“I didn’t think you were superstitious.”

“I am not,” Lorenz insisted. “But, if this treaty works, then my legacy will be secured in history...as long as this summit isn’t recorded as your greatest scheme come to fruition.”

“No, I have one, even greater scheme still going, and if  _ that _ one succeeds, it will be truly my greatest accomplishment.”

“Then I sincerely hope it fails,” Lorenz drawled, which made Claude voice a strange, tight chuckle. 

The air between them grew tighter and more uncomfortable the longer they walked together, and Lorenz found himself fighting a mixture of emotions that left him uneasy. While it was odd to have Claude following him--especially since it was clear he knew where he was going--he couldn’t call the man out on that without initiating conversation, and he was strangely reluctant to do that. He couldn’t think of any topic of conversation that  _ wouldn’t _ lead to an argument, and the last thing he wanted was for the servants or other attendees of the summit to overhear them arguing. 

“Here you are,” Lorenz said and gestured to the entrance to the guest wing. “Do you want me to request servants be sent to you to bring you to the dining room for breakfast?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Claude said with a forced smile. “Thanks, though. It was...we still have a lot to talk about, so you better be on your best game tomorrow.”

Lorenz smirked. “Of course. Same to you.”

Claude’s smile relaxed slightly. “Right. Until tomorrow.”

Lorenz watched Claude disappear into the guest suite, then turned on his heel and headed towards his own borrowed rooms. Now that he was no longer in Claude’s presence, he found his shoulders relaxing.

_ And yet...this is only the beginning, _ Lorenz thought.  _ As relations with Sreng and Dagda are not settled yet, there is still a long road before us with Almyra. It will certainly be a challenge worthy of Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't expect anything upon posting this, so the response it has gotten has left me giddy and motivated. I hope I continue to entertain!
> 
> Also, is it Fodlandian or Fodlanese? Is there official guidance on this? 
> 
> As always, nothing belongs to me.

Lorenz found himself ill-rested, primarily due to wondering just what exactly the last, greatest scheme from Claude was. What could  _ possibly  _ top fooling an entire nation? The man was as unfathomable to Lorenz as always, and left him needlessly and pointlessly frustrated and predisposed to wanting to strangle him even before negotiations had resumed. 

Nevertheless, Lorenz was impeccably groomed and dressed by breakfast, and arrived perfectly punctually. Claude, of course, sauntered in about fifteen minutes late, his attire casually and somehow tastefully disheveled. From what Lorenz could tell, he did it on purpose to make himself more relatable--Lorenz just found it slovenly. A leader was to be held to higher standards, and part of that meant forgoing  _ some _ relatability to the common folk. Lorenz must have let his likely judgmental look linger for too long, since Claude looked over and gave him a cocked grin and raised the small cup of either tea or coffee to him in a mocking salute before turning his attention back to the conversation he was engaged in.

“You know, frowning like that will give you wrinkles.”

Lorenz looked over to see Hilda holding out a mug of tea to him, and took it with a murmured thanks. He took a deep inhale--Leicester Cortania--then a delicate sip. Not perfect, perhaps, but good enough to serve to visiting royalty. It was also one of Claude’s favorite teas; it was unsurprising that  _ Hilda  _ knew that, but Lorenz only knew because of an off-hand comment the other man had made one time when he (Lorenz) and Ferdinand had been bemoaning the state of the tea selection at Garreg Mach during the war. 

“A king should not arrive to an important meeting looking like he took five minutes or less to prepare himself for the day,” Lorenz murmured after enjoying a few sips of tea in silence. 

“You know he’s always been like that--perfectly and purposefully imperfect,” Hilda commented. “So…”

“Yes?”

“I saw you two come out of the hedge maze last night. Unusual of you to willingly spend time alone with him. I remember how much you complained each time you and he got paired up to work in the stables or the like! Why the change in heart?”

“He came searching for me--made some stupid excuse about  _ getting lost _ here,” Lorenz drawled. “He apparently wanted to ask me to be Fodlan’s liaison with Almyra. I simply told him that the Professor had already acknowledged my brilliant diplomatic capabilities and assigned me to work with the Almyrans.”

“Huh, he really went through with it,” Hilda murmured, looking intrigued. 

Before Lorenz could inquire into what  _ that _ was supposed to mean, Claude himself came over, giving Hilda a one-armed hug, balancing a cup of tea in the other hand, held at a distance from his body to avoid spillage. 

“Good morning,” he chirped and Hilda returned the hug. 

“So, you really went ahead and asked Lorenz to be the Fodlandian ambassador to Almyra, huh?” Hilda said to Claude. 

Lorenz’s eyebrows crept up slightly. “He phrased it more that I would be his diplomatic contact in Fodlan.”

“Claude,” Hilda seemed to scold, and while Claude rolled his eyes, there was a slight tightness to his smile that was unusual. “There’s a big difference between the two and I  _ know _ you can communicate clearly. Did you mention to him that you were planning on visiting the Professor after the meeting was over?”

“No, I was going to bring that up later today,  _ after _ we concluded negotiations,” Claude said.

“It is good that the King of Almyra would want to pay a visit to the ruler of Fodlan,” Lorenz said, suspicious that he was  _ missing _ something. “Have you sent word ahead so that Garreg Mach can be prepared to receive a royal retinue?”

“I was thinking of traveling light,” Claude said. “And that it was intended to be a student visiting their former teacher, not two world leaders meeting each other.” 

“The leader of a nation ‘traveling light’ still means a significant number of people travels with them, if only for protection,” Lorenz said.

Claude was silent for a moment, and Hilda gave him a  _ Look _ that made Claude hold his hands up in surrender.

“Later,” he said, however. “Right now, we have breakfast and the summit to attend to.”

“Of course,” Hilda said in her driest and most disapproving tone.

Lorenz was pretty sure some kind of communication was going on over his head, but Hilda and Claude had always had an  _ understanding _ that was unusual to him. 

What was, perhaps, even  _ more  _ unusual to Lorenz was that, upon breakfast ending and everyone returning to the roundtable, Claude deliberately and pointedly took a seat beside Lorenz--although Nader  _ did _ take up a spot on Claude’s other side, so perhaps it was just a way of non-verbally showing that he wanted the negotiations to proceed smoothly and well. It left Lorenz on edge, however; while he had been brought up with training in the correct etiquette when attending a meeting with royalty, it was a different matter to put it into practice. As all eyes were on Claude, it also meant all eyes were on  _ him _ , which was both gratifying and slightly unnerving. 

_ Still, I will do my best, _ Lorenz thought as negotiations opened again after a brief prayer to Sothis and the invocation of the Almyran gods to bless the treaty they were crafting.

That day’s negotiations were a bit more vigorous, since it revolved around military presence and borders, and Almyra was known for and proud of their navy and army. Lorenz had little doubt that there would still be some minor skirmishes along the border while the more militaristic and nationalistic members of both Fodlan and Almyra adapted to the new state of affairs, and they would have to come down  _ hard _ on both parties to ensure fairness and dissuade them from continuing aggressions. 

It was likely the beginning of the work of generations, given how staunchly against each other the two countries had been for  _ centuries _ . 

_ How the Duke Reigan’s daughter fell in love with the Almyran heir to the throne truly is remarkable--unbelievable, really, _ Lorenz thought as he half-listened to one of the Almyran diplomats protest a suggestion he made that he had no intention to compromise on.  _ To overcome such animosity to have a child together, to rule together, and then put said child on the throne...well, I imagine all of Claude’s courage and strength comes from his mother. _

They didn’t break for lunch, instead working through the hour, servants bringing the necessary food and drink for them; Lorenz was impressed with how  _ unobtrusive _ the servants of House Goneril were--but, when his attention wandered from a long-winded debate, it wasn’t hard to notice that quite a few seemed to be Almyran refugees or, perhaps, former-prisoners. 

_ Perhaps they are being so well-behaved so that House Goneril will release them back to the country? I suppose I’ll have to discuss that with Hilda if it doesn’t come up during the negotiations. _

It didn’t, however, and Lorenz had the sneaking suspicion that it was  _ because _ the Almyrans serving them had been captured and forced into servitude. Defeat of any kind didn’t seem to sit well with Almyrans, which was why heated arguments ebbed and flowed throughout the day when Lorenz pushed back on unreasonable--to him--demands and countered with ones of his own.

The second day came to a close with some matters still unsettled, although they were on their way to the best kind of compromise--no one was happy, but it was fair and just.

“You mentioned earlier that you intend to meet with the Professor?” Lorenz asked Claude as the other participants left the roundtable in favor of the good alcohol and food that was laid out in the adjacent banquet hall, the lilting voice of a highly skilled bard drifting in through the open doors.

“It’s been a while since I traveled in Fodlan, and I’ve been wanting to see my former friends and allies, too,” Claude said with an almost wistful smile. “I miss Raphael, Ignatz, Leonie, Marianne, and Lysithea. I’d like to see everyone from the Kingdom and Empire, just to talk as friends, as equals, without having to worry about people  _ angling _ .”

“I doubt your advisors would allow their king to trapeze throughout a foreign country just to meet with his friends,” Lorenz drawled. 

“Oh, they are all  _ very _ against it,” Claude confirmed. “That’s why I told them I’d be traveling with  _ you  _ on my ‘diplomatic mission.’ Admittedly, it hinges on your being willing to spend some time in Almyra, since you’d be delivering me back to them, but there is no better way to gain an appreciation for a country than traveling through it, and if you  _ are _ to be the diplomat--ic contact for Fodlan to Almyra, you should get to know the place.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“I believe that you mentioned earlier that Teach is governing out of Garreg Mach? That makes sense, since it  _ is _ the most centrally located place in Fodlan,” Claude said, apparently ignoring Lorenz’s outburst.

“Yes, they are,” Lorenz confirmed. “But, do explain what you mean by you want to travel with  _ me _ ? Hilda was also right that a diplomat and a diplomatic contact are two very different things. Which exactly were you envisioning our professional relationship to be?”

“Well, I was hoping to ease you into the idea of being the official diplomat and representative of Fodlan in Almyra,” Claude said. “I knew you wouldn’t be keen on the idea--I imagined that you would want to stay in Fodlan to take care of Gloucester and former-Alliance lands rather than leaving your homeland behind and traveling to stay in mine.”

“And you are correct--I can’t abandon my land or people; it would be shirking my duty as a noble and their lord, and the road to recovery still looms long.”

_ I also fail to understand why  _ you _ would willingly choose  _ me _ , given our history, _ Lorenz thought, keeping his incredulity to himself.  _ There are far better people for the role if you want the position to symbolize something besides a pleasantly adversarial relationship with Fodlan. _

“At the same time, working with Almyra would help to pave the way to full recovery for Fodlan,” Claude said. “There would be no need for anxiety over the border between our nations, which would allow you to focus on internal matters. I’d also be willing to help with resources, since I know the former-Kingdom territories have been plagued with famine for a few years now, in spite of the best efforts of the Ingrid and the other Kingdom nobles.”

“You’re in touch with them?” Lorenz asked, suspicious.

“Ingrid and I write each other occasionally,” Claude admitted. “She sends them to Judith, who sends them to me, so, no, she doesn’t know about me being king. I’m not sure how she’d react, really. I get to find out soon enough, though!”

_ He’s attempting to distract me from my original questions, _ Lorenz thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. “How did you convince your advisors to let you travel with  _ me _ ?”

“Well, we have a history,” Claude said. “And you were there when the Almyran army joined us in our assault on Fort Mercius. They saw first-hand your strength, and you’ve only grown stronger and gained more renown since. So. Will you take me to Teach and back to the Almyran capital?”

Puppy-dog eyes on Claude were disturbing.

“You have already made arrangements, so it would be rude and diplomatically disadvantageous for me to decline to act as your guard and guide,” Lorenz said, barely keeping annoyance out of his tone. He  _ hated _ when people made decisions for him--after living under his father’s thumb and direction, he had been reveling in the ability to dictate his own life, and had indulged in more than a little pettiness when it came to his father’s welfare, since he hadn’t recovered well or easily from the wound Nemesis had inflicted--but it wasn’t surprising Claude took away his ability to choose. However, Claude was usually more subtle about the fact that he had already made the call and was simply waiting for you to agree with his plan, providing you with the  _ illusion _ of choice.

“Great!” Claude said and clapped him on the shoulder, causing Lorenz to jump slightly at the unexpected physical contact. “Then we’ll head off as soon as the summit has completed, both to report the successful meeting to Teach and to catch up with the others along the way. Hilda was kind enough to send out messengers to all our old classmates telling them I was planning on visiting, so we might have  _ another  _ semi-reunion at Garreg Mach. This time under better circumstances than a multinational war.”

“Indeed,” Lorenz said and delicately--pointedly--brushed Claude’s hand off his shoulder. “Who else will be traveling with us?”

“No one.”

“...come again?”

“It’ll be just you and me traveling together. We’re already both distinctive in our own ways--” Claude tugged on a piece of Lorenz’s purple hair almost  _ teasingly _ , “--so the smaller the group we travel in, the more likely we are to avoid trouble.”

“How did you manage to convince your advisors that  _ that _ plan is a good one?!” Lorenz asked, deeply incredulous as he swatted Claude’s hand away, absently concerned by how  _ close _ Claude was to him, how  _ casual _ he was being. The man hadn’t had anything to drink, so Lorenz couldn’t blame it on alcohol. 

_ Then, why? To annoy me?  _ Lorenz thought, not bothering to keep a scowl off his face.  _ He’s certainly succeeding if that is his intent! _

“They have let me do far stupider things with far less supervision in the past,” Claude said with a dismissive shrug. “So, the plan was that we leave at the same time as everyone else, but the Almyran diplomatic corps will be doing so to much more fanfare from a different gate, and we will slip out the other so as to avoid attention. I know you might not like that, but it’s better this way--we’ll be able to get a good start towards the Monastery without running into undue trouble.”

“You are expecting trouble and yet only want to bring  _ me _ ,” Lorenz said. “While I suppose I am flattered by your trust and regard, it seems foolish. Still, the matter appears settled, so we’ll just have to do our best.”

“Exactly,” Claude responded with a grin. “I know I can count on you.”

Lorenz  _ almost _ balked at that.

_ Has he finally lost his mind? _ Lorenz thought, slightly mystified by Claude’s assertion of trust.

“Of course,” Lorenz said, smothering his discomfiture. “Shall we join the others?”

“I was enjoying not being stared at,” Claude murmured. “You’ve done well, by the way, calling me Khalid and not Claude during the summit.”

“Of course,” Lorenz said, mildly offended. “Claude was a false name you assumed so as to not arouse suspicion. I am only referring to you as is proper.”

Claude shook his head slightly. “My middle name is Claude--it was the concession to my Fodalnese heritage. So, it wasn’t hard to adapt to responding to it, and it still  _ counts _ as my name.” Claude paused for a moment and held Lorenz’s eyes, which sent unpleasant shivers down Lorenz’s spine. 

There was  _ something _ in the depths of his green eyes, something just outside of Lorenz’s ability to interpret, and it left him uneasy, yet...intrigued. 

“While we travel together, would you prefer I call you Khalid or Claude?” Lorenz asked, breaking both their staring contest and the silence.

“Claude,” Claude said after a moment’s thought. “It’s the name our friends know me by, and traveling in Fodlan with an Almyran name is...ill-advised, in spite of what we’re accomplishing here.”

“Ah, that’s why Nader was named Nardel when he temporarily assisted you in governing the Alliance during the war?” 

“It was a more acceptable name for Fodlan while still keeping most of his actual Almyran name,” Claude said. “ _ Just _ enough of a difference that people wouldn’t ask questions neither of us wanted to answer.”

Just then, Hilda leaned in so that her torso was visible through the door, and Lorenz did  _ not _ like the look that she was giving the two of them. It was too...considering, almost  _ conniving _ , and more than a little smug.

“I think our presence--or the lack of it--has been noted,” Lorenz said and pushed away from the roundtable. 

Claude gave a needlessly dramatic groan and stood as well. “Fine, fine. How many more days do you think we’ll be under the lens like this?”

“At least one, perhaps two,” Lorenz said. “It all depends on how flexible everyone chooses to be.”

“ _ You _ are being remarkably flexible, all things considered,” Claude observed as they walked to where a smirking Hilda was waiting. “You made some concessions I didn’t think you’d agree to.”

“Only because I received better or comparable ones in return,” Lorenz replied smoothly. “Of course, I’m not surprised you failed to see my brilliance.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hilda said, catching the tail end of the statement. “You’re the  _ only _ thing he’s been looking at.”

“He’s hard to not look at, when he’s doing most of the negotiation and talking,” Claude said. “It’s impolite to  _ not _ look at the person who is speaking.”

“Oh, sure,  _ of course, _ ” Hilda said. “You were just being  _ polite _ .”

Claude rolled his eyes, although tension had crept into his shoulders. 

“You know what? After today, I need wine,” Claude said, and left them to find a servant and, presumably, some alcohol.

There was a beat of silence before Lorenz said, “You do know that Claude was likely only observing me so that he can come back with counter-arguments and schemes tomorrow that will make negotiations a thousand times more difficult than they need to be and will result in  _ my _ drinking heavily tomorrow night.”

Hilda gave him a  _ long _ look before sighing and shaking her head. “It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that you  _ both _ paid close attention to the other throughout the meeting today.”

“Of course I paid attention to Claude--to Khalid--considering he is a  _ king _ .”

Hilda gave him perhaps the second most disapproving look Lorenz had ever received in his life before she said, “Right. That’s definitely why.  _ Men. _ Come on, you need to eat something--you only picked at lunch.”

As the scent of the food wafted over to Lorenz, his stomach growled loudly and in confirmation of Hilda’s assertion, which made Lorenz fight down embarrassment. Hilda, for her part, was kind enough to ignore it. 

_ She is making something out of nothing, _ Lorenz decided as he was led over to where the buffet was set up, a line of servants taking care of dispensing portions to the honored guests.  _ I still can’t believe I’ll be traveling with him to Garreg Mach  _ alone.

“Ah, Claude said that you sent out messengers announcing to our classmates that he will be visiting the professor?” Lorenz said as he carefully balanced both his plate and Hilda’s as she guided him to an open table.

“Yup! I’ll be joining everyone, but I’m stopping by Margrave Edmnud’s territory first to pick up Marianne and--”

“Propose to her, correct?”

“How did  _ you _ know?!”

“Claude told me.”

“That jerk! I had wanted it to be a surprise for everyone else!” Hilda fumed. “So, then, he also told you that he somehow managed to convince everyone to let you two travel alone?”

“I don’t understand  _ why _ ,” Lorenz said. “It isn’t safe, even with my magical skill and our Relics. He still has Failnaught, doesn’t he?”

“He does, if only because no one else with the Crest of Reigan has come forth who can use it,” Hilda replied. “I don’t get it either, but you know that once Claude gets a scheme in his head, he doesn’t let it go.”

“He also told me he had one, final, great scheme running,” Lorenz said after setting his plate down and pulling out a chair for HIlda. “Did he tell you what it was?”

“Yes,” Hilda said as she took a seat. “But I’m not allowed to tell you. I...kinda want to see how it plays out, too.”

Lorenz refused to be irritated, but it was a close thing. Hilda and Claude were close--of  _ course _ she would be sworn to secrecy. 

“I see,” he said instead. “Well, I’m sure it is needlessly complicated.”

Hilda actually giggled and shook her head. “Of course it is. It’s  _ Claude _ .”

“You must give my compliments to the chef--they have outdone themselves,” Lorenz said. “Also, I noticed that the majority of the servants here seem to be Almyran.”

Hilda nodded, waiting to finish the bite of food she took before speaking: “They are, yes. They're survivors of skirmishes, or the children and families of those who died. Almyra...doesn’t seem particularly kind to orphans and widows. I admit that before I knew Claude and Cyril and Holst met Nader, we might not have treated them the best, but...things have changed, y’know?”

Lorenz nodded. “Do you think Almyra will ransom them?”

“If they do, they’re free to go,” Hilda said. “If not, they’re welcome to stay.”

“That is very wise and kind of you,” Lorenz said, and he felt the tension in his back and shoulders slowly melting away. He hadn’t  _ noticed _ how on edge he’d been seated next to Claude, being subjected to his presence the entire day, until the man was missing. At the same time, he felt...oddly bereft. 

_ Stop it,  _ he scolded himself.  _ You have at least another day, if not longer, to suffer through beside him, and I’m sure he’s fine now. _

Lorenz was drawn out of his thoughts as Holst made his way over to them both and playfully messed up Hilda’s hair, earning an indignant squawk from her, followed by teasing banter. It always hurt a little, to see someone with a loving sibling, as Lorenz was an only child and his parents had always been distant--he was, after all, simply a means to an end, the continuation of the bloodline and Crest. They didn’t  _ need _ any more children, and certainly didn’t love each other enough to spend enough time together to potentially make a second Gloucester child. 

It was, in part, what drove him to strive to be the perfect noble in all things, because if  _ he _ didn’t succeed, their line would fade, and the blood and Crest of one of the Ten Elites would be lost, and so many Crests that once existed had been lost to time. 

He was proud that he apparently adeptly kept the mournful regret from his face, and happily allowed himself to be drawn into a much more lighthearted conversation than he had endured the rest of the day, although his voice  _ was _ starting to hurt; however, at least it hurt from laughter.

The Gonerils were certainly ideal hosts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've settled on Saturday weekly updates, and will be doing that henceforth.
> 
> Additionally...Lorenz isn't _dense_ , per se. You don't get someone like pre-timeskip Lorenz without them being raised in a very specific and fairly toxic family environment; given what we know of his father from dialogue and events in-game, I doubt his childhood was a loving or progressive one. 
> 
> ANYWAY. As always, nothing belongs to me.

Lorenz had not expected people to nearly come to blows over  _ fishing _ _rights_ , forcing them to break for lunch early on the third day so tempers could cool, and it had him thinking  _ hard _ . 

_ Where was the cue I missed? _ He thought as he took tea instead of wine with his lunch, paying only half an ear to the rest of the Foldanese diplomats’ chatter.  _ What are they  _ actually _ upset about? People only get that defensive if there is something important, something worth protecting being threatened. Do they take it as us attempting to build a navy to rival theirs now that we’re actively looking past our own borders? No, we’ve only ever been concerned with protecting our home, and the Professor doesn’t have the temperament for conquest. _

“Hey, you. Count Gloucester, right?” 

Lorenz was tempted to ignore the speaker given that they hadn’t used the  _ correct _ form of address, but the Almyran nobility didn't seem to have the same set of rules or even the same ranks as Fodlan, so that, combined with the fact that Nader was the one speaking to him, made Lorenz push past his annoyance and say, “Is there something I can help you with, General?”

“Got a minute to talk? In  _ private _ ?”

Lorenz stood, compulsively made sure his clothes were straight and neat, and said, “Of course. We shouldn’t stay away for too long so as to avoid an...incident.”

“Unless your people start something, mine have orders to be on their best behavior,” Nader said as he and Lorenz returned to the empty roundtable hall. 

“I assume this is about Khalid’s scheme to visit the Professor?” Lorenz asked softly once the doors had been closed to a crack. 

“He means  _ everything _ to us, Gloucester,” Nader said, crossing his arms over his impressively broad chest, more serious than Lorenz remembered ever seeing the man. “I’m still not entirely sure how he convinced us to let him go with only you, but I suspect he got the promise out of us while we were drunk.”

“His more conniving moments are very ends-justify-the-means,” Lorenz agreed. 

“Thankfully, he doesn’t do that unless it’s something he  _ really _ wants, and  _ that _ is what has me puzzled. What part of this scheme does he really desire?”

“The pressures of kingship are many, and he was always deft at dodging responsibility during our days at the Academy,” Lorenz commented. “He might be searching for temporary relief.”

Nader snorted. “It’s a ruse; he takes his responsibilities very seriously and wouldn't dodge them for the world. No, there’s something else he’s angling for here. But, any way you look at it, his life is in your hands, and I hate that.”

“It came as much of a surprise to me,” Lorenz said. “I also expressed my dismay over it being just the two of us, but he assured me that it would be easier to travel incognito that way.”

“Well, at least I know now you didn’t put it in his head,” Nader sighed and scratched the back of his neck in what was clearly an unconscious gesture of dissatisfaction.

“I promise you, on my family name and my honor, that I will do my utmost to protect him while he is with me,” Lorenz said firmly. It was a  _ strange _ promise to make, and one he didn’t entirely want to keep, but his upbringing wouldn’t let him do otherwise; Claude was, for better or for worse,  _ royalty _ . “It won’t be easy, given who he is and his temperament, but I will try to dissuade him from any unnecessary risks.”

“That’s really all I can ask of anyone,” Nader said and clapped Lorenz on the shoulder hard enough that only stubborn pride kept Lorenz from flinching at its strength. “Get him back to us safely, and we’ll be forever in your debt.”

Lorenz nodded, attempting to put as much gravitas behind his expression and gesture as possible; Nader, inexplicably, laughed, squeezed his shoulder almost painfully tight, then left, throwing open the doors and calling for the negotiations to start again before people imbibed too much.

Lorenz absently rubbed his shoulder as he found his way back to his seat, and was distantly amused by the suspicious, sharp look Claude treated his advisor to, which was responded to with a hand-sign of positive affirmation and a shit-eating grin.

_ Almyrans are strange, _ Lorenz decided and settled himself, Claude  _ flumping _ into his seat inelegantly. 

It felt distinctly odd, knowing he had to protect  _ Claude _ , of all people, but he had done it before during the war when he was the leader of the Alliance, so it wasn’t  _ unprecedented. _ That didn’t stop it from being annoying; the only plus side that Lorenz could see was that he didn’t have to worry about Claude suddenly being on the other side of the battlefield due to his wyvern and out of reach of his spells, since he (Lorenz) would insist on traveling by horse--a wyvern was quite visible and would make them a target. He was sure it would be an argument, since Claude seemed to have quite the bond with the beast, but it was one Lorenz wasn’t going to budge on.

It eventually came out that the issues the Almyrans were having with fishing privileges was that there was a very particular fish that had some significance to the Almyran gods, to the point that catching and eating one was said to bring calamity. Lorenz thought that particularly ridiculous, but it was a promise easily made--the problem would be communicating it to the Fodlanese anglers. 

_ Spread the news throughout Derdiru and maybe...send messengers to the local fishing hamlets? _ Lorenz thought as the scribe drew up the official language.  _ It can be done, but I foresee friction. Damnit. Of all the things... _

After settling most of the military matters the previous day, the focus turned to economic concerns. It was exhausting and exacting work, figuring out currency conversion, tax rates for the goods that would flow between the two countries, what were allowed imports and exports, and the differences in what each country considered to be contraband. By the end of the session, Lorenz had a horrific headache from all the double-speak and circular language he had to translate internally and how much pushback he received for some relatively simple and unobtrusive requests. It was becoming abundantly clear  _ why _ Alymra and Fodlan had been at odds with each other for so many years--some things that Lorenz found perfectly acceptable were almost  _ taboo _ to the Almyrans, and there were things that the Almyrans took with a shrug that had Lorenz reeling in shock and trying desperately not to show it. 

_ We are separated by a simple mountain range and yet everything is so different, _ he thought, interlacing his fingers to keep himself from rubbing his temples in frustration and an attempt to ease the pain.  _ There is not enough tea in the world to render some of their ideas sensible. All the  _ frustrating _ parts of Claude now make a little more sense, though. _

Claude, for his part, weighed in only when things looked to be turning too heated or if there was a disconnect that he, with his dual heritage, could uniquely bridge. It prevented a day of talks from being a complete failure, instead ensuring that the next day would be the last. They would put the finishing touches on the treaty in the morning, then have an official signing ceremony in the afternoon, with Lorenz standing in for the Professor. After that, there would be a feast--because Claude was involved, and the man did love his feasts. Then, the Almyran delegation would leave for their own capital, and he (Lorenz) and Claude would be traveling to Garreg Mach. 

Together. 

Alone.

While a large part of him was dreading the experience, there was nonetheless a small part that was not, and Lorenz wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“I won’t be joining you for dinner,” Lorenz told Claude and Hilda as the meeting adjourned and people streamed into the adjacent room.

“Your headache that bad?” Hilda asked, frowning delicately.

"I thought I hid it well," Lorenz murmured, which earned him a condescending pat on his forearm from Hilda.

"We spent time in school and on the battlefield together. I like to think I picked up on a few of your ticks," Hilda said.

“Everyone was being particularly cussed today, so I’m not  _ surprised _ ,” Claude commented.

“They were being deliberately difficult?” Lorenz queried.

Claude hummed in affirmation. “It was their way of testing your fortitude, resolve, and mental strength, quibbling over  _ nonsense _ .”

“Is  _ everything _ a competition with Almyrans?” Lorenz muttered, although clearly not softly enough that Claude didn’t overhear, if his wry chuckle was anything to go by.

“You should grab at least  _ something _ to take with you,” Hilda said as she and Claude stood in sync, Lorenz a millisecond behind; after all, etiquette said that if a king stood, you couldn’t remain seated. 

“Do not concern yourself,” Lorenz said dismissively. “I will get in touch with a servant and have them bring something to my rooms.”

Hilda’s frown hadn’t quite eased. “If you say so.”

Before anyone could say anything else and delay Lorenz blissful silence and lack of humanity any further, after a precise bow, Lorenz left, quickly and efficiently navigating the halls of the Goneril estate. Even though he knew no one was watching, he refused to let his exhaustion and strain show until he was safely in his borrowed chambers. Once there, he sat down heavily in an overstuffed chair and stretched out, slouching inelegantly, but grateful for the pull of a stretch on his back and legs. 

_ Maybe I should perform a few exercises in the training yard, _ he thought, running his fingers through his hair.  _ It would work out some of the stresses of the day. It would also feel good to burn down a dummy or two with magic. Showing off my magic might also be beneficial, since the Almyrans seem to have minimal magical talent; hell, they might respond  _ well _ to shows of strength and intimidation. It certainly seems that way with what I’ve encountered thus far. Yes...let’s do that. _

Lorenz pushed himself to his feet and quickly changed out of his formal, worthy-of-meeting-royalty clothes and into his daily-use armor, not wanting to singe anything during his practice. However, just as he finished donning his armor, there was a sharp, authoritative knock at the door.

Lorenz barely restrained a sigh.  _ I suppose food first would be wise, _ he thought and walked over. However, upon opening it, it was to find  _ Claude _ standing there, not a servant.

“Claude? What are you--”

“Aw, no fair, you got a room with a view? I’ll have to complain to Hilda about mistreatment of foreign royalty,” Claude said and swept in past a startled Lorenz, a covered tray held in his hands. Claude put the tray down on the closest flat surface and walked over to the large windows that overlooked the hedge maze/rose garden. 

“I’m sure she put you in the rooms she did with good reason,” Lorenz commented. “These aren’t the safest, nor most centrally located, and certainly not the grandest.”

“Yeah, but all I get is a view of the courtyard,” Claude said. “And the windows are much smaller, barely better than arrow slits.”

“For your safety so that no one can break in,” Loren said, mildly irritated. “So, what brings you here?”

“Your dinner,” Claude said, turning away from the window and gesturing to the tray. “And a bit of planning, although I’m sure you’re sick of it.”

“Planning for--ah, travel arrangements,” Lorenz said and walked over to the tray, trying to keep his movements graceful and sure, even if mental exhaustion was making his limbs feel like lead. The last thing he wanted to do was a verbal dance with Claude, but the man had taken up residence in one of the seats and was looking at Lorenz expectantly, so he had no other choice.

“To keep the thought from taking root--no, it’s not poisoned. I literally brought it straight from the buffet to here. It might be a tad tepid, but that won’t hurt you,” Claude said, propping his feet up on the chair’s accompanying footstool. “You were going to go somewhere?” Claude asked after a beat of silence as Lorenz pulled back to cover to reveal a suitable selection of the banquet fare, the man clearly having noticed Lorenz’s change in attire.

“I was hoping to get some training in,” Lorenz said as he brought the tray over to the table in his borrowed room and carefully began to eat. “After the kind of day I had, I figured it would be good to get in some physical and magical exertion.”

“Beat up a few dummies while pretending they’re my advisors, huh?” Claude said with a lop-sided smile. “Can’t say I haven’t done exactly the same in the past.”

Lorenz merely hummed, declining to refute or confirm Claude’s statement. After a few moments of serene quiet, Lorenz spoke: “I would prefer we travel on horseback. You riding a wyvern would be too obvious and many might find it threatening. If we want to avoid attention, horseback or on foot would be best.”

“Fine by me,” Claude said. “Feeding a wyvern is a pain anyway and because of how they bond to their rider, you’d have to be trained to fly one, and we just don’t have that time.”

While Lorenz didn’t have anything  _ against _ flying, the idea of it sent unhappy and nervous shivers up his spine. To have the ground so far below...horseback riding was itself a dangerous pursuit, flying was a thousand times worse, and he had to survive if he was to guide the former-Alliance lands through the numerous trials that doubtlessly still awaited them.

“I had been expecting more resistance,” Lorenz commented. “Thank you for agreeing so readily.”

“It’s not like it’s an  _ onerous _ request, and after fighting for sensible things all day, I figured you deserve at least  _ one _ easy win.”

Lorenz sniffed in derision, which made Claude snicker. 

“So, we’ll take horses. I’m assuming you took one here, but you think Hilda or Holst will lend me one?” Claude asked.

“Certainly,” Lorenz responded. “They both like you, and it isn’t like we won’t return said horse when on our way back to Almyra. I do have a question for you, however.”

“Oh yeah?”

“This is the third time in as many days that you have sought me out,” Lorenz said. “Why? Surely time spent with Hilda would be more pleasurable.”

“All she talks about is how she is going to propose to Marianne,” Claude said with a dramatic sigh. “While it’s nice to see her so head-over-heels for someone and I'm happy that she's happy, it’s a little grating.”

It had taken some getting used to, and a massive shift in Lorenz’s world-view to grasp two women falling in love  _ romantically _ , but seeing it gradually unfold with Hilda and Marianne as well as Dorothea and Petra had given him time to acclimate and restructure. 

He still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about the arrangement between Sylvain, Annette, and Felix, though, not when it was clear that Felix and Sylvain cared for each other just as intensely and romantically as they cared for Annette. It made him...uncomfortable, since he had been told his entire life that true and honorable noblemen found  _ wives _ and carried on Crests and Bloodlines, yet Felix and Syvlain were nobles, descendants of the Fraldarius and Gautier Ten Elites, whose bloodline rivaled his own, and they were together in spite of their union being fruitless.

“So, you come to  _ me _ to avoid listening to proposal plans? You could easily avoid Hilda in a thousand other ways,” Lorenz said when the silence lingered too long.   


Claude combed his fingers through his hair. “You make me feel  _ human _ , Lorenz. I irritate you, but you don’t  _ loathe  _ me. You’ve got etiquette and manners down to a science so you’ll talk to me even if you don’t want to, and you won’t...your insults don’t have  _ venom _ to them and you are as far from sycophantic as can be. It’s...refreshing.”

“You seek me out because I will not go out of my way to embarrass you, nor will I heap meaningless praise on you,” Lorenz summarized, intrigued. It seemed rather nonsensical to seek out someone because they  _ didn’t _ like you, but it was also very much something that Claude would do.

Claude hummed an agreement. “Something like that, yeah.”

A weirdly comfortable silence lingered as Lorenz tended to his dinner, trying not to feel self-conscious at Claude’s occasionally lingering gaze. Eventually, however, Lorenz ran out of food and thus out of ways to delay conversion.

“To travel from here to Garreg Mach will take about a week, perhaps longer, but there are plentiful towns and villages between there and here, so we won’t need to pack too many supplies,” he said, dabbing his face and mouth with a napkin to make sure he caught any crumbs. “The weather is unpredictable this time of year, though, so we should be prepared for that.”

“Rain cloak and waterproof bags, then?” Claude asked, seemingly relaxed back into the chair. 

“Indeed.”

It was patently bizarre, making travel plans with  _ Claude _ , although it was mildly offensive how impressed he was by Lorenz’s knowledge of all the minor towns that sprinkled the old Alliance territory. Lorenz was  _ required _ to know where everything was, if only to be able to quickly address problems, should they arise.

"Do you expect trouble along the way?" Claude asked. 

"I would like to say no, but that would be a lie," Lorenz said. "There is always a chance of running into bandits or wandering monsters; the number of demonic beasts had plummeted across Fodlan, however, so we at least won't run into them. Current theory is that with the fall of the Empire and the destruction of Shambala no new beasts are being made, and they don't seem capable of reproducing."

"That's a relief," Claude said. "Those things were...unsettling."

"Indeed," Lorenz agreed. "But, you can fight can horseback, right?"

"As long as I have my bow, I'll be fine," Claude confirmed. "It is clear you've kept up with your training, too."

"The Professor has been required to call on me from time to time, so I wanted to make sure I am always capable of helping," Lorenz said, unsure if he should feel insulted over Claude thinking he would let his skills atrophy, suspicious that he noticed, or flattered.

"Things  _ have _ been rather unstable for Fodlan, haven't they? I'm glad I was able to keep Almyra from being another source of conflict," Claude commented. 

"Hilda noticed the lack of Almyran attacks, but didn't know what to make of them except take them as a blessing."

"How are things in the former-Kingdom and Empire lands? They are too far away for me to get reliable information."

"And yet you know about all of my accomplishments."

"Well, I did try to keep track of all my friends and comrades," Claude said, but Lorenz  _ knew _ he was lying; the question was  _ why. _

"I am ill-informed about those territories, but if you talk to Ingrid or Sylvain, I'm sure they'll be able to tell you more." 

Claude grimaced. "Ingrid isn't going to take me being a king well."

"You really think so? I always thought you two were fairly close."

"Close? I suppose. For the most part, she was concerned with how relaxed my leadership style normally is. She had a very specific idea of what a King is, and a part of me fears that she'll be reminded of the king she lost to madness and grief."

"Distinguishing you from Dimitri is not difficult," Lorenz drawled. "If she cannot see that, then I have gravely overestimated her."

"Aw, c'mon, she, Sylvain, Felix, and Dimitri grew up together. Those kinds of memories are hard to let go. Be nice."

Lorenz shook his head. "Anyway. Ask Ferdinand if you want news of the Empire. He controls much of it--Lindhart and Casper disappeared to a wanderer's life shortly after the war ended, Bernadetta has a very hands-off approach to governing, and Dorothea is busy with the opera." 

Claude chuckled. "Is Ferdinand still as insufferable about nobility and nobleness?"

"He had mellowed somewhat, but still has impeccable taste in tea.”

“Would you like me to find a servant to bring us a pot?”

While tempting, tea-time was either something intimate or something he did to relax, and neither applied to his time with Claude, so he shook his head. “No, I want to sleep tonight, and if I drink tea too late I have trouble falling asleep.”

“If you say so,” Claude demurred. “So, there is a chance we could run into bandits or monster on the road, and we should be ready for unstable weather, but there are plenty of small towns along the way that will have inns, so we won’t have to spend time roughing it all that often. Do you think we  _ should _ take the direct route, or would going cross-country cut down on our chances of conflict more?”

“We are more likely to run into ruffians away from civilization, and I dislike camping,” Lorenz said. “I also don’t remember your cooking being terribly good, and the thought of skinning anything makes me queasy.”

“Not offering to cook yourself?”

“I never learned,” Lorenz said. “The kitchen was off-limits to me, due to it being either a woman’s or servant’s work, so any interest I may have had was...discouraged.”

He hadn’t been able to sit comfortably for days after the one time he snuck to the mystical and unknown land known as the  _ kitchen _ as a child because he was curious about where his food came from and how it was made. He didn’t make that mistake twice.

“So, what did you do when it was your turn to help cook at the dining hall?”

“Supplemented the kitchen staff’s income so they would report that I had been there.”

“You  _ bribed _ the servants?”

“Bribe is such an uncouth word,” Lorenz said and leaned back in his chair. “A simple demonstration of my lack of knowledge and skill to learn also helped convince them that it would be better to take the money, anyway.”

“And Rhea or Seteth never found out?”

“I would think that they would be too busy to care about such things. But, that is neither here nor there. Because we will be traveling through rough country, we should bring camping supplies and foodstuffs to tide us between towns. I’m sure Hilda or Holst would be willing to part with what we need to get to the first town, since I’d like to help the local economies by buying new supplies at each place. How much do you think we should bring?”

Lorenz had not been responsible for any of the logistics around the care and keeping of an army and never traveled alone, so was required to rely on Claude for an understanding of how much their horses--and they--would need to consume in terms of water and food per day. It was surprisingly interesting, and required Lorenz drawing a crude map on a piece of paper to help explain terrain and distances along the path they would travel. He wasn’t  _ surprised _ Claude had forgotten as much--he had an entire different country to run, so his mind was probably full of those facts instead, the ones previously required for running the Alliance jettisoned to make room.

“When did it get so late?” Claude mused as the colors of the sunset over the moutnains coated Lorenz’s room’s walls. “We should light candles before we can’t see.”

“Don’t worry about getting up,” Lorenz said. For the most part, magic was taught for offense, for wartime uses, and was better as a sledgehammer than for day-to-day use. However, Lorenz had found himself working into the early hours of the morning so often since the Professor had given him control of Alliance territories, that he had refined his control over the fire spell to be able to manipulate a much smaller ball and dispel it before it made contact with something he didn’t want to catch fire. Using that magic, Lorenz lit the various candles scattered throughout the room, quickly bringing it back to full, albeit flickering, illumination. 

“The candles will burn down a little faster, since magical fire burns hotter than normal, but we have the light we need now,” Lorenz said, and looked back to Claude once he had dispelled the final fire ball.

He didn’t expect Claude to appear  _ impressed _ , but the man was giving him a long, appraising look with something like  _ respect _ in his gaze.

“I didn’t think magic worked like that,” he said.

“For most people it wouldn’t, but did you really think that I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, wouldn’t improve on what is already known?” Lorenz replied, both proud of his accomplishments and unnerved by Claude’s positive regard.

Claude held his hands up in mock surrender and said, “Sorry, Your Excellency, didn’t mean to offend.”

“You are forgiven.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, where were we?” 

When they had exhausted all possible topics and Lorenz had summoned and sent a servant off to submit their requests to the estate’s quartermaster, an uneasy silence fell. 

“It is too late now to use the practice courts,” Lorenz sighed. “But, at least the evening was productive.”

Claude nodded, then yawned. “True. I’m gonna call it quits, though. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Lorenz said, standing when Claude did. “I look forward to a mutually beneficial resolution to the treaty negotiations.”

“Same,” Claude said with a surprisingly honest tone to his voice, even if he didn’t look at Lorenz, his gaze instead focused on something in the misty future. “This is momentous, Lorenz. It will be nice to finally have both sides of my heritage be at peace.”

Claude exited on that final proclamation, closing the door quietly behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this, I was on the fence about Lorenz, odd as that sounds. Now that I've begun to unpack his trauma, I love him. I have _problems_.
> 
> As always, nothing FE:3H belongs to me.

The morning was, to Lorenz’s acute relief,  _ uneventful. _ The concerns that they were addressing were all minor and easily resolved, the contentious issues having been resolved the previous days. All that was left to do after a quick lunch was review the treaty a final time. That they had accomplished as much as they had in as short a time said that, for all the hostility, the desire for a lasting peace was  _ sincere _ , and came from more than just Claude. Most treaties could take  _ weeks _ to hammer out, that they had managed it in under one was remarkable. Lorenz desperately hoped it was a sign of good things to come.

The document was almost ludicrously long, and Lorenz never wanted to read it, but  _ had _ to in order to make sure that everything was in order and nothing had been missed; the last thing he wanted was for one minor clause to have escaped their notice and end up starting a war and dissolving the peace treaty they had worked so hard for. The only consolation was that Claude would have to wade through the monstrosity as well to ensure from the Almyran perspective that everything was as it should be. 

Two copies had been made--one for Fodlan and one for Almyra--which Lorenz and Claude compared side-by-side.The scribes had written the treaty out in an older, stiffly formal, common language between the two countries, Nabatean, because there were certain clauses that no one wanted to have mistranslated, so it was a  _ slog. _ Lorenz was more fluent in the ancient language than Claude, to his pleasure, so they occasionally had brief, whispered conversations to ensure Claude understood everything clearly. It was, perhaps, the closest he had ever been physically to Claude, the two of them leaning over the documents, their shoulders just barely touching. 

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time that they had made their way to the last clause, and Lorenz felt the distinct need to use the bathroom due to the probably three pots of tea--or more--that he had drunk just to stay awake and alert when dealing with the exceedingly dry and boring language. The tension around Claude’s eyes said the man was tired, too; however, Lorenz was pretty sure that only he would notice the detail--he (Lorenz)  _ had _ spent plenty of time observing Claude during their school days and the war.

“Everything seems to be in place to me,” Claude announced to the quiet susurrus of whispers that filled the room, diplomats and dignitaries all waiting for the two of them to complete their task with varying degrees of investment in their success--or failure, as it were.

“I agree,” Lorenz confirmed.

“Then let’s sign now,” Hilda suggested. 

_ To make everything official and ensure there is no tampering with the documents, _ Lorenz thought as he nodded. 

“More time for the feast if we get the signing out of the way,” Claude said with his trademark lop-sided smile; his comment made more than a few people, from both Fodlan  _ and _ Almyra, chuckle.

A priest of Sothis and an Almyran cleric were both summoned for their part in the formalities, and Lorenz sat back in the high-backed chair to ease some of the strain on his body.

_ Almost done, _ Lorenz thought as he straightened his clothing and made sure his hair was in place. People would  _ remember _ this event, and he wanted to look as good as possible. Lorenz was impressed in spite of himself at how  _ well _ Claude cleaned up when he put effort in. Seeing the man in full royal regalia was clearly a rarity and not something Claude relished, given how he kept on tugging at certain parts of the clothing in unconscious shows of discomfort and displeasure.

_ At least he knew to dress for the occasion, _ Lorenz thought as the clergy of each country arrived; the priest of Sothis was allowed to perform her blessing first, since Fodlan was the host country. However, it seemed like  _ everyone _ wanted the summit over and a reason to celebrate, since Lorenz had the sneaking feeling that both religious figures abbreviated their respective ceremonies substantially. Not that he  _ minded _ , it was just...amusing.

_ Either that, or they are worried that too long of a delay may give some shadowy figures the initiative and opportunity to strike and ruin all our work, _ Lorenz thought.  _ Although that feels rather paranoid... _

Claude was provided with the quill and ink with which to sign the treaties first, given his higher station, and signed both copies. Lorenz had never seen the man write out his full name, so it was interesting, watching him scrawl it across the parchment. Admittedly, it was a  _ signature _ , so was barely legible. Still, he could tell that while Claude abbreviated his Fodlanese middle name to merely a  _ C _ , he wrote out both his maternal and paternal surnames, hyphenating them. An intriguing decision, and one that emphasized his dual-heritage. 

_ Is that how he wants to be remembered? For being of both worlds, yet fully belonging to neither? _ Lorenz wondered idly.

The quill was then passed off to Lorenz, who signed as the representative of Fodlan’s ruler, given that they were rather busy with rebuilding the country after a five year war that decimated a lot of it. Lorenz’s stomach tied itself in knots and it was strangely difficult to breathe as he looked at the two names written on the treaty;  _ this _ , he knew, was his legacy. Even if the treaty was broken, even if it didn’t last beyond his lifetime, he would be  _ known _ for this--and for whether it succeeded or failed.

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester would never be forgotten, and it was both thrilling and terrifying.

It took a moment to register that people were actually  _ cheering _ , and the doors of the roundtable room were quickly thrown wide open, allowing an influx of servants laden with finger-foods and glasses of wine. A group of bards stationed themselves in a corner and one was playing a lively tune on her lute, another humming along to warm up his voice. 

“We did it,” Claude said, his voice soft with awe and delight as the treaties were whisked away for safekeeping.

“Yes, we did,” Lorenz agreed, his tension melting away into pleasure and pride over his accomplishment. “Almyra and Fodlan are allies.”

A momentary flicker of  _ bliss _ crossed Claude’s face, before he broke out into a wide smile. “And through Fodlan, Almyra is also allied with Brigid, Sreng, and Dagda. My ideal world is being built and...I’m astonished to say, but  _ you _ have had as much a hand in it as I have. Look how far you’ve come from the suspicious, fairly xenophobic young man I met at Garreg Mach.”

“You’ll have to pardon all that as products of my upbringing and  _ your _ sudden appearance and insistence on concealing your origins,” Lorenz drawled, trying not to preen. Claude may have dreamt of a world where all cultures could mingle, but he (Lorenz) had been instrumental in realizing it. Lorenz froze when Claude pulled him into a surprisingly tight, clearly joyful hug; he could probably count on one hand the number of times someone had hugged him genuinely, and certainly didn’t know how to respond to the gesture from  _ Claude _ .

Claude broke away quickly, however, and grabbed two glasses of wine from a passing servant, handing one to Lorenz. He gave an ear-piercing whistle that drew the attention of everyone present, then cried as he raised his glass, “To the alliance with Fodlan!”

Lorenz could take a cue when it was  _ that _ obvious, even if the man’s arm around his shoulder was unsettling, so raised his glass as well and cried, “To the alliance with Almyra!”

There was a general roar of agreement and the sound of many glasses clinking together. As a gesture of goodwill and potent relief, Lorenz extended the gesture to Claude, who quickly responded, tapping their glasses together before downing the entire thing in one go.

“It is unbecoming for a king to act like a lush,” Lorenz semi-scolded as he sipped his wine.

“And you are being far too serious for a celebration of this momentous of an occasion,” Claude retorted, smiling. “Don’t you ever let loose?”

“Never.”

“...I believe you,” Claude said with an overly dramatic sigh. “Then I will just have to doubly enjoy this for the both of us, won’t I?”

Lorenz shook his head in disdain as Claude wandered away, hailing Hilda and picking various small bites off of plates that were presented to him.

Lorenz staggered slightly when a heavy hand came down on his shoulder, and Nader’s booming laugh echoed around him.

“Thank you,” Nader said and gave him a blinding smile. “I honestly thought this wouldn’t work, but I’m glad it did. Khalid has a way of making the wildest pipe-dreams come true.”

“He has the will and focus necessary to change the world,” Lorenz grudgingly admitted.

With  _ Nader’s _ seeming good will, more of the Almyran diplomats and dignitaries approached Lorenz, a parade of names and faces and greetings that Lorenz struggled to commit to memory, if only because some of the Almyrans had a thicker Fodlanese accent than others.

_ I need to learn their language, _ Lorenz thought.  _ It shouldn’t be hard for someone like me. _

Due to being separated by only a mountain range and sharing a distant root language, the major differences between Almyran and Fodlanese were inflections, vocabulary tweaks, and irregular verb conjugations here and there. Just  _ listening _ with little knowledge of the language, Lorenz could pick up bits and pieces of conversation--and it appeared that disparaging phrases carried the same tone and expression in both tongues, even if the descriptions used were odd. 

_ They are dissatisfied,  _ Lorenz thought, a small knot of worry forming in his stomach.  _ I felt I was fair, but...I suppose old habits die hard and there are centuries of hostility to undo between us. Any change takes effort and intention to adapt to, and this is quite the shift in international relations. I’m astonished no one from a different country has tried to sabotage us; or, if they  _ have _ , House Goneril has been extremely adept at intercepting and neutralizing them. That would make sense, though, considering how close Hilda and Claude are. _

However, while plentiful alcohol made some people just boisterously joyful, it wasn’t hard to see that there was  _ some _ escalating tension between House Goneril’s soldiery and some of the more confrontational and brazen Almyran security. It seemed like even just a few days of inaction was wearing on the tempers and patience of the more action-oriented members of the Almyran diplomatic corps. Claude seemed to have a sixth sense for the trouble, however, and each time stepped in to diffuse it if the trouble was on the Almyran side; for his part, Holst publicly shamed his family’s misbehaving guards, which cowed the rest into behaving. Eventually, the belligerent ones got too drunk on food or alcohol to cause further trouble, either passing out or leaving the feast entirely, which was a  _ relief _ . 

The combination of music, wine, and smug pride gradually relaxed Lorenz to the point where he could cautiously enjoy himself. It was more than a little entertaining to watch some of the people in the Almyran delegation making eyes at some of the Fodlan natives, as well as vice versa. 

_ Marriage would strengthen the diplomatic bonds by giving people a reason to  _ not _ break the treaty, if just so as to avoid upsetting their lives, _ Lorenz thought as he took another sip of wine. _ Of course, they might also just be looking for a quick lay and a story. _

That thought reminded Lorenz of how his mother had  _ strongly _ hinted that she was still waiting on grandchildren from him and that potential brides weren’t getting any younger, or were being snapped up by other men. She didn’t want Lorenz to have to  _ settle _ , but if Lorenz’s perfect wife wasn’t out there, well, he would have to make do with whomever was available to marry and produce heirs.

_ Mother and Father would have a  _ fit _ if I brought home an Almyran bride, _ Lorenz thought, distantly amused. _ Given the amount of time that I am to be spending in Almyra, however, it would be more of a surprise if I  _ didn’t.  _ What are their women even like? I don’t see any in their diplomatic corps, although I must have met a few female Almyran soldiers during our assault on Fort Mercius. Right? _

“Lorenz, what are you doing? C’mon, people have started  _ dancing, _ and you have to see what the Almyrans consider dancing to be like!” Hilda said and dragged Lorenz to his feet, pulling him into the thick of the festivities.

In spite of being separated by an entire country, the dances of Brigid and Almyra had more in common with each other--it seemed to be unique to each person, their bodies following the rhythm of the music and song without the usual rules attached to Fodlan’s techniques. However, the Almyrans took to some of Fodlan’s more energetic group dances easily enough; much later, it would be said that the first good traded between Almyra and Fodlan was dance. 

Almyran formal clothing had much more color to it than their military uniforms, so the dance floor was a riot of foreign color twinning with Fodlan’s slightly more sedate color palette, the rustle of fabric underscoring the rousing music. 

_ If Ignatz were here, I’m sure that, out of all of the events of the summit,  _ this _ is the one he would paint _ , Lorenz thought as the group dance circled between partners. 

For the briefest of moments, Lorenz found himself with Claude--but the usual surge of annoyance was far more tempered than it had been previously. It also felt  _ wrong _ to begrudge someone’s happiness, and the man looked almost joyful. 

_ This is the achievement of one of his life’s goals, though, _ Lorenz thought as they circled each other, fingertips barely touching, even as their eyes caught and held, time stretching out like taffy.  _ And that is, indeed, something to celebrate. _

The warmth in Claude’s eyes was unnerving, but they were only transitory partners, their hands quickly finding those of their newest dancing companion, so Lorenz didn’t let his mind linger on the look, turning instead to the complicated moves of the dance.

After participating in more dances than he bothered to count, Lorenz eventually found his way to an open seat after stepping out to relieve himself; on his way to rest, a servant passed by and unobtrusively handed him a glass of wine. Lorenz was flushed and warm from all the dancing, and had to be careful to sip the wine instead of downing it to soothe his parched throat. That would have been immeasurably unbecoming, and many eyes were still on him.

A different servant brought a plate of food for him, and left it on the table at his side, to which Lorenz murmured a quick thanks before starting on it. The dining set-up was more-or-less the same as it had been the previous nights, there was just additional service, which Lorenz appreciated. He was out of practice, at least in terms of dancing, so his feet were hurting more than they would when he had been actively attending debut balls and whatnot in his younger socialite days.

“Already throwing in the towel?” Hilda said as she stopped by where Lorenz was situated. “I remember the ball during our year at Garreg Mach! You were one of the last people to leave the dance floor.”

“That ball also didn’t feature Almyran dances, which I am unfamiliar with. They are also far more vigorous than ballroom dancing,” Lorenz said. “From the looks I’m getting and which are lingering on you, you’ve accumulated quite the interest among the Almyran contingent. Are you enjoying stringing them along? I’ve seen you wheedle favors out of them with such ease as to almost be magic.”

Hilda laughed brightly. “Oh, it’s just a useful skill. Imagine how much more work I’d have to do without all you strong, capable menfolk around.”

Lorenz was tipsy enough to snort derisively into his wine at that statement, which made Hilda chuckle. 

“I remember quite well how strong and capably you handle yourself on the battlefield, Hilda,” Lorenz commented. “You easily carried the Professor all the way back to the Monastery when they collapsed when they first received the power of the progenitor god, and the Goddess knows you could have benched-pressed Caspar on a  _ bad _ day.”

That surprised a more genuine laugh out of Hilda. 

“You know, you and Claude work really well together when you’re not bickering,” she observed.

“This was too important of a goal to spend time fighting needlessly,” Lorenz said, waving his hand dismissively. “And it seems like becoming a king has taught him  _ something _ of responsibility and proper noble behavior.”

_ At least, in public, _ Lorenz amended internally.  _ If anything, he seems to have become more casual in private--at least with me. His explanation as to why he sought me out was a lie, but, in that case, what is the  _ true _ reason? _

“Claude will never be a  _ proper noble _ by your exacting and specific standards, Lorenz,” Hilda said dryly. “But! Holst and I were given a sketchy description of what your and Claude’s plan for leaving the city is--Claude withheld a lot in order to prevent other people from potentially finding out the important details and thereby cause mischief. We’ll be lending him a horse and will have yours ready for departure tomorrow morning, along with the supplies you requested. Are you sure you’ll need that little? Garreg Mach isn’t exactly a day trip from here.”

“We’re planning on stopping over in a few towns, and I’d like to purchase things there to assist in the recovery process,” Lorenz replied. “I know how long it will take to get to each town, and we discussed at length how much in terms of supplies that meant; we also didn’t want to drain your resources much further, given all that you have had to use to keep the foreign dignitaries and Fodlanese diplomatic corps fed and entertained. So, yes. We need only what we requested.”

“If you say so,” Hilda responded, clearly still skeptical. “You know, you should probably sleep off the wine sooner rather than later. Do you want help making it to your rooms?”

Lorenz sniffed. “I’ll be able to make my way back on my own, thank you very much. I haven’t imbibed  _ that _ much.”

Hilda held up her hands in surrender, and was clearly struggling not to smile. “Sure thing. I’ll check back later, just in case.”

Lorenz huffed in indignation once Hilda was far enough away to not hear. He would be  _ perfectly _ fine. Sure, things had gained a slightly rosy, fuzzy edge, and he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to stay standing if he stood up, but that could be put down to exhaustion from all the dancing and not the fact that he didn’t recall his wine glass ever being even halfway empty. He just needed an hour or so and he’d be stable and rested. He still pushed his glass just far enough away that he couldn’t comfortably reach it, hoping that the servants would get the message.

However, Hilda having visited him brought the attention of others as well, and Lorenz found himself fielding often under-handed praise and criticism in equal measure from the rest of the Fodlanese diplomatic ranks. Of course it was good that they had secured peace, but if he had only done  _ this _ or perhaps  _ that _ ...

Lorenz ignored the critique--they couldn’t have done better, and they knew it, and were only complaining because it gave them a reason to talk, and many of them loved the sound of their own voice. It was tedious, but such were the occasional perils of his chosen work.

The feast slowly wound down, lasting late into the night, people gradually trickling out until it was only Holst, Hilda, Lorenz, Claude, and the guards and servants left in the banquet hall. The clean-up was a mesmerizing, elaborate operation, plates of half-eaten food whisked away, puddles of spilled drinks cleaned, dirty tablecloths removed, furniture re-arranged, a thousand minute details attended to by skilled and practiced hands. Lorenz knew he would never have been able to do as good a job cleaning, and vowed to look into his family’s treatment of House Gloucester servants.  _ He _ was the Count now, and he wanted to ensure that his Fodlanese servants were being treated just as kindly as forgeign former-POWs and/or refugees. That he hadn’t thought to ask before made him feel slightly ashamed--he was trying to ensure opportunities and betterment for people of Fodlan regardless of social status, and he had overlooked the most obvious place to start. 

_ I hope I don’t have a headache tomorrow, _ Lorenz thought as he cautiously pushed himself to his feet. When the ground didn’t buckle underneath him or try to throw him, he figured it was safe to walk and he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. He bid everyone good night, then proceeded to promptly get lost on his way back to his rooms.

_ I feel like an idiot, _ Lorenz thought as he leaned against a wall, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration with himself when it dawned on him that he hadn’t the faintest clue where he was.  _ Alright. Retrace your steps back to the banquet hall. You know how to get to your room from there. _

However, as he was doing so, he happened upon Claude, who was looking out one of the hold’s windows, seeming rather pensive. The image was oddly captivating, silver moonlight reflecting off of cloth-of-gold, tracing the curves of elaborate embroidery, following the simple, sweeping lines of the ceremonial diadem that encircled Claude’s head. He was a glittering, glowing vision, and made Lorenz linger, dazzled. 

_ Don’t notice me, _ Lorenz hastily prayed once it dawned that he had been staring, but knew that his prayer would go unanswered; it was  _ Claude _ , after all.

Claude, indeed, noticed. What Lorenz wasn’t expecting was a  _ soft _ look that was quickly smothered by something more mischievous. “I thought you were going to bed,” Claude said, his voice a little rough from talking and laughing so much. The edge was...strangely delightful. 

“I decided to go for a walk first,” Lorenz lied, pushing aside the stray, vague feeling. “After everything, I still had too much energy from the events of the day.”

“Of course,” Claude agreed, even though it was clear he didn’t fully believe Lorenz’s excuse. “I still can’t entirely believe it’s real, you know? Peace. After so long...”

“With luck and hard work, hopefully it will be a lasting one,” Lorenz said as he started up walking again--he needed to pass Claude to get to his rooms. “Do you think Almyrans will join the Officer’s Academy, as residents from the other countries have done?”

“I’ve made no secret of having attended,” Claude said and fell easily into step with Lorenz, the man stretching as they meandered, and Lorenz barely kept himself from wincing at the loud  _ pop _ he heard from Claude’s shoulder. “So, there will probably be a few people who enroll, if just to see  _ why _ I did. It’ll be a bit of a culture shock because of how much  _ magic _ the Fodlanese can sling around, but I know the Almyrans will have plenty to contribute. They’re expert marksmen, and our wyvern are always better-bred and cared for than Fodlanese, so we clearly have some husbandry techniques to pass on.”

Lorenz nodded, slightly distracted by how natural it felt to walk side-by-side with Claude. After  _ years _ of disagreement and thinly-veiled hostility, three to four days of working closely with him should not have made the situation  _ tolerable _ , let alone nice. As with Almyra and Fodlan, they had  _ history _ , and history could not be easily overlooked. 

But, Claude had reached out, tried to bridge that history of hostility, so it would be rude not to respond to those overtures of peace.

It was still confusing.

“Claude, could you satisfy my curiosity regarding an observation I had about the Almyran diplomats?” Lorenz asked.

“Why no women?” Claude guessed, and Lorenz nodded an affirmation. “Almyra has some of its own problematic beliefs, and a number of them center around what women are and are not capable of. This is one of those situations.”

“I see,” Lorenz said, even if he didn’t  _ entirely _ understand. 

“You will, yeah,” Claude said with a small smile, and Lorenz was again set ill-at-ease by something that might be called  _ affectionate  _ in Claude’s gaze. “Hey, I know that you likely overheard them being snide about you, but that’s only because they’re unnerved by how impressed they are. You and Hilda have challenged a lot of what they thought about Fodlanese people, even moreso than my mother, and they don’t know how to feel about that. I knew I was right to choose you. Please tell me you’ll accept the position.”

“My acquiescence is only part of the equation--we need to clear it with the Professor as well,” Lorenz said, reflexively flinching away when Claude’s hand accidentally bumped into his as they walked. 

“I’m sure they’ll agree,” Claude said. “I mean, I haven’t asked anything of them before now and I’m sure they’ll give me  _ one _ favor as a former student. Who do you think you’d leave control of these lands to?”

“Probably Marianne,” Lorenz said. “After her tutelage under the Margrave Edmund, she’s really blossomed as a political and social figure. That would be who I would recommend to the Professor, anyway.”

“Marianne, huh?” Claude said, sounding thoughtful. “Interesting.”

Lorenz eventually recognized the halls he needed to turn down, so stopped and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the stables?”

“Bright and early,” Claude confirmed. “Man, it’s gonna be great to be traveling again. I love Almyra, but I’ve missed Fodlan, too.”

Lorenz didn’t know how to respond to that, so simply nodded. “There are still scars from the war, but a great deal has healed.”

“Good to hear. Well...have a good night."  


"Same to you."

A strange silence lingered between them for a heartbeat before Lorenz left Claude for his rooms without further words, trying to ignore the thoughtful, lingering feeling of Claude's gaze as he walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I finally read the Traveler's Journal in the library at Garreg Mach in game, since it corrected me on a plot point.
> 
> As always, I do this for the funsies, and not for profit.

_ I hate sneaking about,  _ Lorenz thought irritably, only half-awake due to only having the time to drink one pot of tea before leaving his borrowed quarters to meet Claude at the stables. It was a small blessing, but he had managed to dodge a hangover, so was simply dealing with the typical exhaustion that hit after a tricky diplomatic negotiation. 

_ And now I will be traveling with and protecting  _ Claude _ ,  _ Lorenz thought as he exited the hold proper to head to the stables. _ It feels ridiculous.  _

The stables were busy, but Lorenz found his stallion easily enough, the all-black beast sticking his head out and neighing an enthusiastic greeting. Lorenz had raised the horse from when he was a colt against his father’s wishes, and Shadow--Lorenz was not known for his creativity in naming--had served him faithfully in the war and beyond. He was, perhaps, a bit vain and temperamental, but Lorenz loved him and the stallion seemed rather attached to Lorenz as well, if his dislike of almost any other rider indicated anything. 

“At least one of us is awake,” Lorenz murmured as the horse lightly headbutted his shoulder before Lorenz entered his stall. Shadow was already perfectly kempt, with the bag of supplies sitting on a shelf alongside Shadow’s tack. It was soothing work, getting the horse ready for departure, and Lorenz fed Shadow a few sugar cubes he had retained from his tea, which resulted in a very happy stallion.

Lorenz wasn’t waiting long until he saw Claude, dressed in more familiar Fodlanese-type clothing, saunter through the stables, trading smiles and greetings to everyone, clearly much more awake than Lorenz. 

Lorenz would never understand  _ morning people _ . 

“Do you know which one is yours?”Lorenz asked, trying desperately not to yawn.

“Yup,” Claude responded, and gestured to the stall next door. A piebald looked at them both curiously; based on how Lorenz’s stallion  _ wasn’t _ reacting, the horse was probably a geldling. 

“Good,” Lorenz said and undid the bar on the stall once Claude had passed and was tending to his own packs that had been left inside the piebald’s stall. Lorenz led Shadow out, then mounted up, waiting for Claude to finish his preparations. In spite of his trepidations, Lorenz wanted to get  _ moving _ , if only because the uncertainty and waiting were starting to wear on him. 

Claude clearly wasn’t the most  _ comfortable _ on a horse, but he knew how to ride, which was a relief. Nobles knew horsemanship, so it would have been intensely remiss for Claude to be ignorant of such, particularly since Almyra was known for their cavalry. Claude gestured for Lorenz to lead, which cautiously pleased Lorenz’s pride, so he took the forward position without comment. 

Due to the general hubbub that was occurring as the Almyran diplomatic corps prepared to leave for the Almyran capital, they were able to slip out without anyone seemingly the wiser. 

Whenever they had traveled together previously, it had been as part of the army surrounded by activity and allies, with a distinct and urgent goal ahead of them. To be traveling by horseback at a leisurely pace during a time of peace felt...uncomfortable, somehow. Particularly since there was no reason why he (Claude) should be traveling with  _ Lorenz _ , given all their history of thinly-veiled hostility, even if the summit had changed that.

_ Still, if I am to be the diplomatic contact--or diplomat--to Almyra, I suppose we should be on slightly better terms than during the war and our school days, _ Lorenz thought, looking at Claude out of the corner of his eye as they made their way down the winding mountain path. The man seemed to have no adverse reaction to the previous night’s festivities, seeming instead bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, sickeningly so.

“Come on, you can’t tell me that this  _ isn’t _ nice after spending the last five days arguing in the same room for hours on end,” Claude said upon catching sight of Lorenz’s apparently not-as-subtle-as-he-hoped side-eye.

“It is nice to finally have concluded the summit, yes,” Lorenz agreed. “Although, it has occurred to me that if I am to be the Fodlanese diplomat to Almyra, I will need to know the language. It didn’t sound terribly different, and I could decipher a lot of what they said in their native tongue--” a lot of which was uncomplimentary towards either himself or Claude, “--but it will still behoove me to have full comprehension. Will you instruct me?”

“Of course. And, yeah, I was surprised, too, when Mom started teaching me Fodlanese, how similar the two languages are. So...you really  _ are _ thinking of accepting the position?”

“As I have said before, It will have to be cleared by the Professor, of course, and their word is quite literally law,” Lorenz said. “But, given my now ample experience with dealing with Almyan diplomatic  _ quirks _ , I think I’m uniquely qualified.”

“Quirks, huh?” Claude snorted. “I guess.”

“Do you promise that you won’t teach me incorrectly?” Lorenz asked. 

“I want this to work as badly as you do, and teaching you incorrectly would reflect poorly on both of us  _ and _ decrease our chances of success,” Claude responded. “Because you need to know more than just the Almyran language. You need to learn the customs, superstitions...you may have seen  _ some  _ of our ‘quirks,’ but not all.”

“I look forward to learning them,” Lorenz said with a small incline of his head.

_ Claude _ was the one who looked suspicious then. “Really?”

“Of course,” Lorenz said. “As I believe you said once, I have Fodlanese etiquette down to a science--why shouldn’t the same apply for Almyran?”

_ That, and nothing is more pleasurable than knowing how to insult someone while exactly toeing the line of respect and propriety so that they would look the fool to respond in anything other than a courteous manner, _ Lorenz added internally.

“That’s...a little weird, but okay,” Claude said with a slight shrug. “Almyrans are fairly superstitious, so I guess the best thing to teach you first would be what  _ not _ to do so as to avoid bringing bad luck or calamity. Let me think...”

Due to the early hour of their departure, fog still blanketed some areas rather thickly, which were the times that Lorenz deliberately moved Shadow close to the piebald geldling, whom Lorenz learned was named Spot; he was apparently not the only person lacking originality when it came to naming. It was uncomfortable to sometimes be close enough that his and Claude’s legs touched, but he never wanted to fully lose ‘sight’ of the other man--he  _ did _ promise Nader that he would protect Claude, and Claude’s death so soon after the signing of the treaty would lead straight to war, which he didn’t want to provoke. They also had more than enough experiences with enemies that concealed themselves in fog until they were on top of each other that they were both hyper-aware to any sounds in the mist. More than once, Lorenz would have  _ sworn _ he heard the heavy breathing of Maurice or one of the demonic beasts, but each time it was paranoia brought upon by a few too many close calls.

“How long will I have to learn the intricacies of Almyran society?” Lorenz asked after they cleared an area of thick fog, the sun finally high enough to burn away all but the most dense patches.

“Well, if I teach you on the way, we have the week to Garreg Mach and a week back to Fodlan’s Throat. I suppose if you want some instruction during our time at Garreg Mach, we can do it then, too.”

“I imagine that the others would be interested in learning more about Almyra, given your identity,” Lorenz said. “Leonie might angle for special dispensation for her mercenary company to work in Almyra, since things have calmed down significantly here, which means work has dried up.”

Claude chuckled softly. “So, she’s running her own company now?”

“It apparently was once headed by Jeralt, so it makes sense she would be a sort of successor,” Lorenz said. “She has  _ finally _ stopped mentioning him every other breath now that she is responsible for the corps.”

“Aw, let her have her hero-worship,” Claude said. “It’s not a bad thing to have someone to look up to, something to aspire towards. I bet she still wonders whether or not she is doing him proud, if she is running things like he would.”

“Well, she keeps those uncertainties to herself whenever she comes by Gloucester territories looking for work,” Lorenz said. “Would there be work for her in Almyra?”

“Almyra has an eastern neighbor who we are not on the best of terms with,” Claude admitted reluctantly. “Allowing Fodlanese mercenaries to serve in Almyra might cause  _ problems _ , but I believe that Almyran mercenaries offered their services to the Church, so I can point to that as precedence…but, anyway. We were going to stay at Garreg Mach for a week, right?”

“I don’t think that there was ever an agreement on that point,” Lorenz murmured. “But, I suppose a week wouldn’t be bad. Give the horses some time to rest, a few nights on an actual bed, decent food, and the chance to see people I don’t normally. I really hope I can pry Ferdinand away from his spouse long enough for some tea.”

“And gossip.”

“Intelligence exchange.”

“Sure,” Claude said, drawing out the word slightly. “So, a week to Garreg Mach, a week there, a week back to Fodlan’s Throat--”

“If the Professor  _ does _ clear my appointment, I would need to stop by my territories and get things in order. You could stay at Garreg Mach while I do so, since I know that my father and you never...got along well.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Claude murmured. “But, no. I’ll come along with you.”

“What? Why?” Lorenz asked, surprised into reflexively asking. 

“Well, Nader told you to protect me, didn’t he? And you can’t do that if I’m not with you,” Claude pointed out. “I wouldn’t mind the detour, either. I remember Gloucester territory being particularly pretty this time of year.”

“You’re not afraid that things will go awry in Almyra in your absence?”

“My father and mother are still very involved in Almyran politics,” Claude said. “They will look after everything for me until I return. Admittedly, the longer I stay away, the more hope I give my mother, which makes me feel a little bad.”

“Oh?” Lorenz asked, curious in spite of himself.

Claude shook his head slowly, and Lorenz thought he wasn’t going to answer, so was surprised when Claude said, “My mother...I think that she hopes that I’ll return to Almyra with a fiancee in tow.”

Lorenz couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, which earned him a betrayed look.

“Oh, no, I mean no offense,” Lorenz said. “I just didn’t expect…”

“Expect what?”

“That we would both be facing pressure from our mothers to marry,” Lorenz said. “Ever since the war ended, any time I speak with my mother, she asks after my marital status, and when I will give her grandchildren and secure our House’s future and stability.”

“Yikes. That’s a bit more extreme than my mom. She just gives me meaningful looks and sighs wistfully whenever she sees a family with small children. I think she keeps her misgivings to herself because of how  _ she _ chose to marry.”

“Given that you are the Almyran king now, that means that she ran away from the Alliance into Almyra, and somehow met, fell in love, and married the former Almyran king, yes? Certainly not the norm for Fodlanese nobility.”

“It’s not the norm for Almyran nobility, either, although there is a stronger emphasis on love-marriages than in Fodlan,” Claude said. “It’s why no one  _ stopped _ Dad when he announced he was going to marry Mom--it was clear they were wildly in love with each other, and still are. They are enjoying having more time to themselves and out of the public eye ever since I assumed the throne.”

“Is that envy I hear, Claude?”

Claude snorted. “Envy? Only over the fact that they don’t have to deal with the political maneuvering I do now.”

_ I’m not so sure about that, _ Lorenz thought, but kept that musing to himself. 

“Anyway, where you go, I’ll go,” Claude said. “More time traveling together also means more time to reach an understanding of Almyran customs and language.”

“True,” Lorenz admitted. “I will do my best to keep interactions you may have with my family amicable. There is no need for things to be too...uncomfortable when you visit. Mother will treat you with respect, but Father…”

“Eh, he never liked me anyway, so it doesn't matter how he acts,” Claude said dismissively. “So, a few days to Gloucester territory from Garreg Mach, a few days at your estate, and then...well, it will take a little longer to get from Gloucester territory to Fodlan’s Throat, but only by a few days. Then, once we reach Fodlan’s Throat, we’ll probably spend a day or two preparing for the journey, since it’s two weeks to the Almyran capital, Khwarazm. So… you will probably have a month and a half to gain a grasp of Almyran customs and language, assuming we don’t run into any complications.”

“Which we doubtlessly shall now that you have mentioned it.”

“There’s no need for such pessimism. But, interestingly, the whole ‘speak of something and it will occur’ is common to Almyra, too. You see--”

With that, Lorenz’s instruction in the basics of Almyran superstitions and beliefs began. Lorenz would very grudgingly admit it, but Claude wasn’t a  _ horrible _ teacher--even his tangents had a purpose, since he’d only ever go off on one when Lorenz began to get bored. That Claude could tell when Lorenz’s attention was wandering was mildly unnerving, but, at the same time, having someone’s attention, fully and undivided, felt...well,  _ good _ . 

The odd thing was that Claude seemed equally pleased to have Lorenz’s focus. Given his station, Lorenz would have thought the man would  _ avoid _ such--he had always been good at sneaking off--but wasn’t going to question it too hard. He was, after all, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, so perhaps Claude  _ should _ feel pleased that he (Lorenz) was paying him (Claude) such close regard.

The morning passed without incident, the only interlopers being the occasional curious animal; Lorenz thought he caught a glimpse of a deer, which felt particularly auspicious. They had lapsed into silence somewhere around mid-morning, when Claude’s voice grew tired and Lorenz needed time to absorb and process everything, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Lorenz had feared. While Almyran social rules weren’t quite so exacting as Fodlanese ones, any mistakes or missteps often carried more egregious insults. It was  _ fascinating _ , how someone like  _ Claude _ could have come from such a superstitious culture. 

They stopped for lunch near a small stream, allowing their horses to graze and rest while they took their midday meal. As Lorenz boiled two pots of water--one for tea, and one to rehydrate some of their rations--he said, “I believe I caught you praying to the land once.”

“You did, yeah,” Claude said, a note of cautious curiosity in his voice, even if his expression was bland. 

“Is that a general Almyran belief or something that is specific to you?” 

“It’s odd, how Fodlan ended up with a religion around a single goddess when Brigid, Duscur, and Almyra are all polytheistic,” Claude mused, answering the question without answering it. 

“The people of Sreng believe in a single creator-God,” Lorenz said. “Although that is, admittedly, where the similarities between Sreng and Fodlan end. So, then, yes, you were expressing an Almyran belief when I caught you praying that day.”

Claude eventually nodded. “Although I wouldn’t say I was expressing so much a religious belief as…”

“As?”

“Well, there is cause and effect to everything. You plant a seed and care for it well enough, and it will grow into something that will sustain  _ you _ . There’s no gods or goddesses or spirits involved. So, I think it was more a...prayer of gratitude to and for life, than directed to any specific deity. I’m not a particularly  _ religious _ person.”

“That was not hard to notice, considering you always managed to find a way to dodge attending church services,” Lorenz drawled. “You and Sylvain were  _ awful _ . I will not be expected to change my beliefs, yes?”

“Nope, just need you to respect ours,” Claude said. “But, while you were always fairly big on piety, you were...surprisingly good about keeping it to yourself. You’re clearly a believer, but you were never obnoxious about it.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m as much a believer as I used to be,” Lorenz admitted after a moment of silence. “Discovering that Lady Rhea was Seiros herself...I have been accused of many things, but even I don’t have the kind of hubris necessary to create an entire religion around myself. And do you remember our confrontations with the Immovable and the Windcaller? They addressed Flayn as ‘Ceth’ and she called each of them  _ Uncle _ . That would lead me to believe--”

“That Flayn is Cethleann, yeah,” Claude finished for him. “And it feels weird to think that you are supposed to look up to her and revere her. I think I heard Lindhardt call the Immovable a ‘saint’, so they might have been Indech, Macuil, or Cichol--and Seteh acted like he knew both the Immovable and Windcaller. So, that means Seteth is probably a Saint, too. I have my money on Cichol if only because he doesn’t  _ fit _ the descriptions of the others”

“ _ Knowing _ the saints as people...it makes revering them difficult, since I know their flaws and quirks,” Lorenz said. “And the Professor shares their body with the heart of Sothis, which means that the goddess was, at some point, quite real. However, it also makes me think of the Professor as an avatar of the goddess, which makes matters...uncomfortable. It is hard to believe in the divinity and omnipotence of something when you have seen the very human limitations of the incarnation.”

“Beliving is  _ not _ seeing,” Claude semi-summarized, a wry smile forming on his face. “I guess it’s better that the Almyran gods are said to live in a realm separate from our own. It makes it easier to believe that they’re above all our petty concerns when we don’t know that they once got a stomachache from eating too many of Mercedes’ baked goods.”

Lorenz chuckled slightly. “We were all so grateful when Judith was able to provide us with those extra resources. It really did wonders for morale.”

“Yeah,” Claude said, and murmured a thanks as Lorenz handed him some rehydrated soup.

Lorenz took the tea pot off the fire and put in the exact amount of tea leaves, then set it aside to steep. 

“Rose petal blend?” Claude asked between blows on the soup to cool it.

“Naturally,” Lorenz replied. After a beat of fighting with himself, Lorenz asked, “Would you like some as well?”

“If you’re offering, I won’t turn it down,” Claude said.

Lorenz found the second teacup from his bag and cleaned it out. “Do you take your tea with anything?”

“No,” Claude said. After a small pause, he chuckled and said: “Did you ever have tea with Lysithea?”

“A few times, yes, although I fear that she only did it to make me stop asking,” Lorenz said. “It prompted me to attempt to find healthier alternatives to her usual sweets, and while she  _ appreciated _ my sentiment, she didn’t like them. It still...endeared me to her somewhat.”

“Is she well?” Claude asked, the question oddly tentative.

“Last I heard she was working with Hanneman on some sort of Crest research,” Lorenz said. “She is in as good health as can be expected of anyone.”

Claude looked markedly  _ relieved, _ but didn’t follow up with any questions, instead eating his soup with an occasional absently happy half-smile. He clearly knew something Lorenz didn’t--something to do with Lysithea’s formerly-fatalistic outlook on her own survival--but it...strangely didn’t bother him. Claude collected secrets like Lorenz collected tea, and Lorenz was too much of a gentleman to pry into a lady’s secrets if she didn’t want to tell him willingly, unlike Claude. 

Once the tea had sufficiently steeped, Lorenz poured a cup for Claude first and held it out to him. Claude put aside the bowl that had the dregs of the rehydrated soup and took the cup from Lorenz with surprising care, cradling it in one hand for support, since Lorenz’s travel tea-set didn’t come with saucers. 

Lorenz poured himself his own cup, took a deep breath to savor the aroma, then a delicate sip.

Perfect, as it should be.

“You know, I don’t usually like floral teas, but I get the feeling I just never had it made correctly,” Claude murmured, his tone thoughtful.

The compliment should  _ not _ have made Lorenz feel as smugly proud as it did, but pleased warmth suffused him at the statement. “There is little better in life than a truly exceptional cup of tea. Does Almyra favor tea or coffee?”

Lorenz wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive among coffee-drinkers, so would have to make sure to pack enough tea to last if that was indeed the case.

“There is a particular bush whose leaves are used to brew something  _ like _ tea, but it’s not quite the same,” Claude said. “There is still tea and coffee, but both had to be imported through enemy territory, so usually only the nobility had the means to enjoy either. With our new treaty, however, we should have a greater variety available, and I’m sure the Fodlanese merchants will find quite the market in Almyra.”

“I would have to bring my own supply to start, though,” Lorenz murmured to himself. “Very well.”

“I get my curiosity from my father, and Almyrans generally enjoy trying out new things, so I’m sure that if you held a few tea-times with certain influential nobles, you’d have it popularized in the capital in no time,” Claude said after taking a few sips. 

Lorenz actually chuckled slightly at that. “An interesting prospect, as long as I always remember what hand to use when picking up anything to avoid insulting someone’s mother.”

Claude choked on his tea at that, Lorenz having spoken just after Claude had taken the final draw of his tea. It took a few coughs to clear his lungs of the tea, but Claude laughed afterwards and said, “I’m sure you’ll be fine, and even if you  _ do _ accidentally insult someone’s mother, they’ll likely pay you back in kind without you knowing. I suggest you play up your ignorance of traditions and norms if you  _ truly _ want to get a sense of the people you’ll deal with.”

“How people react to slights and  _ honest mistakes _ tells you much about them,” Lorenz agreed. “I also request that next time you drink my tea instead of breathing it.”

Claude coughed one more time and shook his head, rinsing out both his bowl and Lorenz’s teacup with some water. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lorenz accepted the cleaned cup and finished both his tea and soup, cleaning them as well, and after dousing their fire and scattering the ashes, they mounted up and were off for the second half of the day’s journey.

“We’re sleeping outside tonight, right?” Claude said, looking up at the sky thoughtfully.

“Tomorrow as well,” Lorenz confirmed. “Do you suspect foul weather?”

“No, I think clear skies will hold,” Claude said. “But that’s more a hunch than anything else. Who really knows the whims of the weather?”

“True,” Lorenz agreed. “Are you up for some language instruction?”

There was an  _ odd _ pause, unknowable emotions flickering in Claude’s eyes before he said, “Yeah, sure. You won’t be running verbal circles around anyone, but you’ll be able to get by.”

“I aim to impress, so please feel free to move quickly.”

There was  _ another  _ strange pause, and it looked almost like Claude was trying not to smile before he cleared his throat and said, “Right. Where to start?”

The similarities between the two languages actually made it slightly more difficult to learn that Lorenz expected, because the differences were occasionally slight enough to sound like a mispronunciation of Fodlanese, even if his pronunciation was technically correct. 

“Part of me wishes Fodlanese and Almyran were wildly different, if only because it would be harder to confuse the two,” Lorenz sighed. 

“I’m astonished I never slipped up the entire time I was at Garreg Mach and during the war,” Claude admitted. “I guess it’s because I grew up speaking and hearing both.”

“Perhaps,” Lorenz said. “But, no matter what, I will master this. There is no other option.”

“You’re doing well, all things considered,” Claude said as he stretched and shifted on his horse, the geldling dancing under him slightly in confusion. He soothed the horse with whispered assurances, and Spot shook his head and settled. “This  _ is _ your first time trying to speak the language, you know. No one masters something on day one.”

“While that is true, I would have wished the similarities to help instead of hinder,” Lorenz said. After a moment’s struggle, Lorenz continued: “I also feel that requesting you instruct me in so many things without repayment is unfair. Since you clearly don’t know how to make tea well, I can at least teach you how to brew a pot correctly. I can offer little else, since you’ve never shown inclination or interest in magic.”

“A lot of Almyrans think of magic as cheating,” Claude said. “So Mom kept the truth about my occasional weird moments under wraps until I was old enough to actually make use of my Crest when it saw fit to lend me its aid. Knowing what the Heroes Relics are truly made of and what that means about  _ how _ the Ten Elites must have received the Crests in the first place...well, I still have Failnaught, but I don’t use it often anymore.”

Lorenz’s hand drifted to where he kept Thyrsus tucked in his belt, his fingers tracing the curves and lingering on the slightly pulsing gem at its center. “I had always wondered why it felt like it had a heartbeat. But, we cannot apologize to those who were killed, and I think it would do a greater disservice to their memory to let their power languish.”

“An interesting take on the matter,” Claude said. “Not hiding the Relics away affirms the lives and existence of those who make them up.”

“Indeed. But, am I to take you avoiding accepting learning how to make tea as a rejection of the offer?”

“There really isn’t anything to  _ repay _ , Lorenz,” CLaude said. “After all, I want this to  _ work _ , and you knowing how to speak the languages and how to avoid starting fights is necessary for my scheme to come to fruition. But I’m sure it’s hurting your noble sensibilities to not repay me somehow so...you know what? You’re good with your lance, right?”

“I am, yes.”

“Then, help me with my lancework,” Claude said. “It will give me a good mid-range weapon, since I already know how to use axe and bow proficiency.”

Tension Lorenz hadn’t been aware of melted out of his shoulders, and he nodded. “Very well. Perhaps before we settle down for the night, we can spar? I have a spare lance you can use.”

“Prepared for the worst, huh?”

“I take good care of my equipment, but one can never be too careful,” Lorenz said. 

Claude held up his hands in mock surrender. “No insult meant.”

“None taken,” Lorenz semi-lied. 

Those were the last words they exchanged until they started to debate over where to take shelter for the night, a compromise eventually found when they came upon a clearly often-used campsite. It was quiet, quick work to start a fire and start water for dinner and tea, Lorenz setting up his tent while Claude found a comfortable place to set his bedroll.

“Are you  _ sure _ you don’t want to use your tent?” Lorenz asked, incredulous.

“Hey, if it starts to rain, I’ll just crawl into yours,” Claude said. “It’s large enough to fit both of us comfortably.”

“Please don’t,” Lorenz sighed. “Why don’t we spar before we eat, so I know what I have to work with starting tomorrow?”

“Morning training sessions, huh?”

“I’m certain you do something similar to keep yourself in shape, since you have clearly not slacked off in spite of governmental and kingly duties.”

“It’s the best way to get stress relief,” Cluade said with a shrug. “Although I think my advisors suspect that I use the dummies I destroy as stand-ins for them when they annoy me excessively.”

Lorenz couldn’t quite suppress a smile at that as he stood and unhooked his usual lance and his spare from their holsters on Shadow. He extended his spare to Claude, who walked over and took it from him. 

“Ready?” Lorenz asked.

“When you are,” was Claude’s predictably cocksure response. 

While Lorenz was out-of-practice fighting on foot, Claude was equally so, but both of them nevertheless found their metaphorical and literal footing quickly. Lorenz was slightly surprised at how  _ inept _ Claude was with a lance, but a part of him also expected it. Claude was used to axes and bows, which were opposites when it came to reach, so the reach of the lance as a weapon was throwing him off, and he never quite seemed to find the balance, which was clearly frustrating to the man. 

It didn’t feel as good as Lorenz thought it would, putting Claude on his ass, but that probably had something to do with the disparity in their skill levels; when he defeated Claude, he wanted it to be at something that they were on par with each other.

“I’ve seen worse,” Lorenz said, offering his free hand to Claude, who took it without hesitation, using Lorenz as leverage to stand. 

“I forgot how much heavier lances are,” Claude said, giving the weapon a slightly distasteful look. 

“It will help build strength, which will benefit you overall,” Lorenz said and held out his hand for the lance. “But, now I know where to begin. From the beginning.”

Claude snorted and handed over the weapon, and Lorenz returned the spare to his bags, while keeping his personal lance closer at hand.

“Oh, right,” Cluade said as he added the packet of dried soup to the now-boiling water. “Do you want the first watch or will I take it?”

“I have no preference,” Lorenz said. “But, I am feeling quite awake and will brew myself black tea, so you can take the post-midnight shift.”

“Sounds good to me,” Claude said. “You’ll just have to keep an eye on me to make sure I don’t fall off my horse due to drowsiness.”

“If you really are that afraid of losing your seat due to sleepiness, Shadow can carry both of us easily,” Lorenz drawled. 

Lorenz  _ meant _ it to be an insult, offering to have Claude ride with him, but Claude instead smiled impishly and said, “Is that a promise?”

“I will only treat you like a child if you insist on behaving like one,” Lorenz said, but Claude’s smile never faltered as he stirred the soup. 

“I hope everyone will be able to make it,” Cluade said after a moment of silence. “How do you think I should reveal to people my new station in life?”

“You’re asking  _ me _ to help with your schemes?” Lorenz asked, incredulous. 

“Of course,” Claude said. “We’re neck-deep in one scheme together, might as well include you in others. It will be us against most of my advisors for quite a while, so we should get some practice in working together so they don’t find weaknesses to exploit during the early days of your tenure as ambassador.”

“Are you sure you’d want me as an  _ ally _ in your court? It may come off as you playing favorite to your Fodlanese heritage?”

“They’ve had time to realize that I do have the best for Almyra at heart, and working  _ with _ you is meant to show that the Fodlanese are worthy of respect and are strong in their own right,” Claude said. “Now, c’mon. Just announcing it seems...blase.”

“You could take the announcement out of your hands and allow the Professor to introduce you at the feast as their  _ special guest _ , the King of Almyra,” Lorenz said. “That way it’ll be obvious that you’re not pulling our classmates’ legs--they will believe the Professor’s statements while they might doubt yours.”

“I’m wounded.”

“You were known for playing with the truth for the sake of a practical joke,” Lorenz drawled. 

“Well, I mean--”

“Claude.”

“Fine,” Claude said. “We’ll need to tell the Professor first anyway if we’re to clear you as the Fodlanese ambassador, and for being as taciturn as they are, they can make damn good speeches when they choose to.”

“I agree,” Lorenz said and started steeping some Bergamot blend in his teapot. “After you eat, please try to get some rest. I will keep us safe.”

“I believe you.”

Those three, simple words should not have felt as impactful and important as they did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left comments or kudos--you feed my need for validation and it makes me happy :D 
> 
> As always, nothing FE:3H belongs to me.

“Lorenz, time to wake up.”

Lorenz did not expect to be woken up by Claude almost sensually purring in his ear, and he went from vague half-dreams to fully awake with a gasp. Only the recognition of Claude’s voice kept him from reflexively casting fire magic. 

“Don’t  _ do _ that,” Lorenz scolded, his heart racing from the shock. Claude was still leaning over Lorenz, one hand on either side of Lorenz’s chest, a small, cheshire smile on Claude’s face. Even though Lorenz’s tent was fairly substantial, all things considered, it felt almost claustrophobically small with Claude in it, which made little sense. Lorenz’s hand was pressed flat against Claude’s chest, and he could smell a little bit of smoke, which meant some fire magic had still seeped through his control. Still, the fact that he was able to pull back his power as quickly as he did was a point of pride.

“You weren’t waking up, and I was shaking you pretty hard,” Claude said, and Lorenz had the sneaking feeling the man was lying. “So, are we going to train, or not?”

“We will,” Lorenz said, distantly noting that Claude had yet to pull back to allow him (Lorenz) to sit up, keeping him lying down without exerting any physical force. “I’m sure you know some stretches, so do some while I don my armor.”

The man didn’t move, though, instead just  _ looking _ at Lorenz, and Lorenz hated that he was fighting down a  _ blush _ . Claude in his tent, looming over him, was invasive, but there was also a part of Lorenz that felt almost...protected by Claude’s arms caging him, which was  _ weird _ , and the close observation was both flattering and disconcerting.

“Why are you still here?” Lorenz asked, hoping he sounded more irritated than anything else and pushed against Claude’s chest pointedly. “Get to stretching. I won’t go easy on you while we train. It’s a shame that you were never taught how to wield a lance correctly.”

Claude, bizarrely,  _ laughed _ , lightly patted Lorenz’s cheek and said, “I hope to get in a lot of practice in with you.”

With that, he pulled back and away, leaving Lorenz both relieved and bereft as Claude exited the tent. 

_ What was  _ that _? _ Lorenz wondered as he sat up and stretched, his back and shoulders protesting sleeping on the ground.  _ He can be so incomprehensible at times. _

It was the work of a few minutes to don his armor, and when he stepped out, Claude had actually followed directions and was stretching in the muted dawn light.

Lorenz walked to Shadow and murmured a good morning before feeding him one of a dwindling supply of sugar cubes and retrieving the spare lance. Claude took it from him and said a phrase in Almyran.

“Am I right to hazard that was ‘Thank you?’” Lorenz asked.

“You are,” Claude affirmed in Fodlanese. “And just so you know, this is how you say ‘Good morn--’what are you doing?”

“Adjusting your grip,” Lorenz said as he stepped in close to Claude and used his own body to shift Claude’s stance and hold on the weapon. “A lance is a thrusting weapon. Use your core, not your arms, and you’ll get more power behind your attacks.”

Claude muttered something under his breath that Lorenz didn’t quite catch, and allowed Lorenz to manipulate his body into the correct position. 

“There,” Lorenz said, satisfied, running his hand down Claude’s spine to force him to straighten. “Now that you’re in this position, we’re going to practice the basic attacking patterns. I’ll demonstrate, then you try to copy, and I’ll guide you and fix anything that needs correction. We’ll do light sparring at the end as a check to see what you are comfortable with and what you aren’t.”

Claude’s nod was cautious as Lorenz slipped into the familiar, comfortable neutral stance. It was almost nostalgic, going over the  _ very  _ basics, and he caught a few sloppy habits of his own as he went through the strikes step-by-step, using those bad habits as a teaching tool instead of glossing them over. The goal of nobility was perfection, but it was a shifting goal, ever out of reach, so it was good to notice where he had become lazy. Claude was clearly paying close attention, even if his mimicry left something to be desired--he really wasn’t meant for Lorenz’s weapon of choice. The first few times Lorenz touched him to change some aspect of his hold or swing or stance, Claude flinched and jumped, but adjusted to Lorenz’s hands-on teaching method easily enough, accepting the physical guidance almost eagerly.

After an hour-and-a-half of instruction, they stopped to spar, which showed Lorenz they still had a ways to go; Claude was at least holding the lance and stance correctly by the end, even if he was still obviously uncomfortable with it. 

“We will make a respectable noble of you yet,” Lorenz said as he extended his hand to Claude, who handed over the spare lance with a disbelieving snort. 

“The Fodlanese idea of nobility is quite different from the Almyran one,” Claude said between heavier breaths as he stretched to cool down

“Oh?” Lorenz said, keeping commentary on what appeared to pass for  _ nobility _ among Almyrans to himself, based on his experiences with Claude, Nader, and the Almyran diplomatic corps and how he (Lorenz) found it lacking. One didn’t insult one’s host, and as Lorenz was going to be living in Almyra, he would be dependent on Claude’s good will. 

“ _ That _ is one difference that doesn’t matter,” Claude said. “You’re to be the representative of Fodlan to the Almyran people, and I can think of no one better than you who embodies what Fodlanese nobility  _ is _ .”

Lorenz wasn’t sure if the comment was a compliment, but chose to take it as such. “Thank you. You did decently today.”

“ _ Decently _ ?” Claude repeated. “It’s so…” Claude swallowed and paused for a long, strange moment before saying, “I suppose I have more to learn, and look forward to the lessons.”

The sun had fully risen by then, and Lorenz was craving his morning cup of tea as much as Claude’s stomach was loudly protesting not having had breakfast. Each of them tended to what was more important to them--Claude started divvying up breakfast from a semi-shared pack as Lorenz started water for tea--and broke camp while everything was heating. Once Lorenz had everything packed and secured on Shadow, breakfast was ready and he set the tea to steep. 

“What do Almyrans usually have for breakfast?” Lorenz asked as he nibbled on a biscuit.

“Various kinds of breads and spreads,” Claude said. “Cheese, fruit jams, butter, honey--you get the idea, yes?”

Lorenz nodded. “With the native tea as a drink?”

“Usually,” Claude confirmed. “You know what? Let’s expand your vocabulary.”

By the time they finished breakfast and tea--which Lorenz had graciously shared--Lorenz had been taught the words for the most common breakfast foods and the phrase that he would use to order a tea from a vendor.

“You aren’t leading me astray, are you?” Lorenz asked as they started off, the horses’ steps thudding dully against the dirt road, suspicion still dogging him in light of Claude’s odd behavior. 

“I’m teaching you all the correct words and phrases, I promise,” Claude said. “Remember, your performance as the ambassador is also a reflection on  _ me _ , too, so I want you to succeed and will do what I can to ensure it.”

“If you truly are teaching me well, then the question of whether or not I will succeed shouldn’t ever cross your mind,” Lorenz replied. 

“Because you’re the noble Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, and no challenge is outside the scope of your mastery?”

The dry note that Lorenz expected was there, but it was tempered by something almost like  _ humor _ as an undertone, and Claude’s half-smile was fond, not mocking.

“Exactly,” Lorenz confirmed, and Claude’s smile widened slightly.

Comfortable silence fell between them after that as they continued to make their way out of the mountainous area surrounding Fodlan’s Throat and into more densely forested environs. They passed a marker indicating the direction of the nearest villages, and one name niggled something at the back of Lorenz’s mind, making him frown at the space between Shadow’s ears in thought.

“Lorenz?” Claude asked, breaking into Lorenz’s revere. 

“That sign listing the villages nearby reminded me of something, but I can’t quite--ah! Be on your guard, as I’ve recently received reports about bandits in this area. I sent a request for help to Garreg Mach--real-life battle and command experience and all--but I don’t know whether or not the problem has been addressed yet.”

Claude hummed in understanding, then retrieved Failnaught from its place amongst his packs, stringing the bow as they rode. Spot held steady the entire time, his ears pricked forward, clearly anticipating action, recognizing at least Claude’s kind of weapon--the horse was probably trained for hunting. 

“Are bandits a common problem in Almyra as well?” Lorenz asked.

“There will always be people looking to benefit from another’s misfortune, no matter the country,” Claude said. “Almyra is a mountainous country of high steppes and rocky plains, with some areas being barely better than desert. While there is farmable land, it is rare, and a lot of my people are still nomadic. Because of this, I’m not entirely certain how many people are citizens of Almyra, as the tribes like to attempt to take care of problems on their own before turning to anyone besides family or tribe-members for help. Before I extended the Crown’s intelligence network, I was usually the  _ last _ person to hear about conflicts and concerns of my own people. They  _ still _ don’t turn to me when they should, and having soldiers show up at their metaphorical doors with an offer of assistance wouldn’t be taken well and could quite possibly make them come to me even  _ less _ than they already do. The nobles of Fodlan are fragmented and uncooperative, but at least they all  _ talk _ to each other and are willing to band together to achieve a common goal.”

Something suspiciously close to  _ sympathy _ bloomed in Lorenz’s chest. “If anyone can win such recalcitrant people over to their side,it is you, Claude.”

“...was that a  _ compliment _ , Count Gloucester?”

“I am capable of recognizing a person’s skills, even if I am not overly fond of them, Your Royal Majesty,” Lorenz replied. “During the war, it wasn’t merely the Professor’s status within the Church that obtained the aid and cooperation of the Alliance nobles. You are…” Lorenz paused, searching for the word before settling on, “magnetic.”

“Magnetic?”

“There is a pull to you that is nigh irresistible, and your ability to charm even those wary of you borders on the supernatural. I swear, you and the Professor are the only people who I have seen change the world through sheer force of will and hope alone.”

“Irresistible and charming, am I?” Claude said. “Why, Lorenz, I’m flattered.”

“I am stating facts, not opinions,” Lorenz replied, hating that he could feel his face heating. “It takes a certain person and personality to run the Alliance with any kind of skill, and your rule was remarkable in getting everyone in the Alliance to play nicely, even if it was for only a short amount of time.”

Claude  _ chuckled _ , looking far too pleased for Lorenz’s sanity. 

The morning passed uneventfully, although Claude continually kept Failnaught close at hand, and Lorenz could feel his magic buzzing just beneath his skin, ready to be unleashed. Claude would occasionally comment on something they passed in Almyran before translating and having Lorenz practice the word until the pronunciation came out as Almyran and not Fodlanese. 

Lunch was a quick, quiet affair, as the terrain was becoming much more densely forested and ominously still, even if the road that they were traveling on was wide and clear. That their occasional conversation and the dull thud of the horses’ hooves on the packed dirt were the loudest sounds was concerning. 

_ What has scared everything away? _ Lorenz wondered. 

Both he and Claude were on such high alert that they nearly missed the trip-wire--only Shadow and his extensive warhorse training saved them, his sudden jump over the wire bringing Spot up short and drawing both Lorenz and Claude’s attention to the trap and prevented the ambush from catching them completely by surprise. 

Lorenz’s magic rose easily within him, and Shadow was well-trained not to spook when he was casting, so a series of fireballs took down two of the bandits as they charged at him and Claude. 

Claude didn’t have the same kind of steely grace that Shamir had when using her bow on horseback--if anything, it seemed like Claude was  _ over _ estimating how much the horse would move under him and the height necessary, as his arrows missed more than Lorenz expected, based on previous experience fighting alongside the man. It was an annoyance to be pondered when they weren’t in the middle of a battle.

Spot was clearly used more to the chase than a skirmish, so capably dodged and weaved around the bandits that focused on Claude, allowing Claude the distance he needed to get off his shot while remaining safe from slashes from axes. Lorenz unhooked his lance and used it rather inelegantly to swat a bandit away from trying to dismount him before throwing fireballs at him, immolating him almost immediately.

The bandits clearly hadn’t been expecting the two of them to put up such a fight, but also seemed oddly disinclined to  _ flee _ . The stench of burnt flesh was mildly nauseating, and brought back memories of Remire Village and the destruction of Fort Mercius, but Lorenz pushed them aside--there was no time for reminiscing when their lives were in danger.

Through a great deal of practice and upsetting his groundskeeper, Lorenz had managed to expand the radius on his Ragnarok spell, even if it did weaken it slightly--still, it was rewarding to neutralize multiple bandits simultaneously. A group of three all swarmed Lorenz at once; Lorenz was unsurprised by this, since magic users were usually the more frail combatants, so it made sense they would try to take him down. He felt  _ almost _ bad for them, since they didn’t know that Shadow himself was another warrior; bandits rarely came across a  _ trained _ warhorse, and Lorenz would never get used to the sound of bone fracturing as Shadow precisely kicked one bandit in the face as Lorenz used another two charges of Fire on him. Lorenz blocked an attack against Shadow with his spear before burning his last uses of Fire to eliminate the final threat against him.

Lorenz saw the glint of the archer’s armor at the near-last moment, the bandit almost in position, his crossbow aimed clearly for Claude. The other man was busy with two bandits harassing him; as Spot wasn’t trained for war, he was clearly intimidated by the strange men waving blades at him. Thankfully, the horse  _ was _ quite agile and surprisingly smart, frustrating the bandits that tried to chase him on two puny legs. Still, there was no way that Claude would be able to react in time to the distant danger.

A strangely potent combination of fear and anger swamped Lorenz, and he kicked Shadow forward, the horse neighing loudly in surprise as he lunged. Lorenz was out of fire magic and his other spells wouldn’t destroy the bolt in flight like he wished, so he had to physically intercept it--his plate armor would surely be able to turn aside the projectile. Lorenz’s notice and Shadow’s reaction startled the bandit into firing early and changing his target to Lorenz. Both were unexpected developments, although not as unexpected as the crossbow using armor-piercing rounds. It  _ hurt _ , certainly, but Lorenz was more pissed about needing to have custom-made armor fixed than the actual injury. He had white magic, so would be able to heal himself and his body would recover quickly enough. 

Using Shadow and his lance, Lorenz flushed the archer out into the open, but before he could drop an Agnea’s Arrow on them out of overkill and spite, a physical arrow from Failnaught pierced the bandit’s head, dropping him.

Claude looked absolutely  _ flabbergasted _ , which earned him a scowl from Lorenz. 

“Stop staring,” Lorenz snapped, the pain from the bolt in his shoulder making his patience short. “Let’s keep moving. We don’t want to find out if there are any others lying in wait nearby.”

Claude looked like he was about to protest, but shook himself and said, “Right. Keeping the bolt in prevents you from bleeding out, and we want to be someplace safe before tending to it.”

Lorenz nodded and bit back a grimace as he shifted his spear back into its holster on Shadow. Lorenz leaned down and whispered apologies in Shadow’s ears if he accidentally hurt him, and the horse tossed his head, almost as if saying all was forgiven. 

Claude was uncharacteristically quiet until they found a safe place to settle for the night, and Lorenz wasn’t in the mood to speak anyway, given how the wound throbbed and his protective undergarments were sticking to his skin uncomfortably from the constant, slow trickle of blood. He was both annoyed and grateful that Claude took the initiative for setting up camp, quickly collecting wood and starting a cheerful, cracking campfire as Lorenz more carefully got off Shadow and tended to the horse first, doing his best to ignore the pain and visible bolt. Once Shadow was taken care of, Lorenz turned to Claude and said, “Help me get this out.”

Claude nodded and stood from where he was squatting by the fire, walking over to Lorenz. 

“I’ll need your help getting some of my armor off,” Lorenz said. “Bah, how annoying, my beautiful armor marred by such injustice!”

Claude chuckled weakly and shook his head. “I’m sure you can get your armor repaired at Garreg Mach.”

“I concur, but I have to wear it damaged until then,” Lorenz sighed dramatically.

Claude’s hands were gentle as they removed enough of Lorenz’s chest armor to get a good view at the wound; Lorenz was lucky that it was through-and-through, although that also meant there was only one way the bolt could be removed.

With practiced hands and dredged-up memories of field medicine, they managed to free the bolt from Lorenz’s shoulder, and  _ Claude _ took the time to clean the area with water and some antiseptic herbs that  _ stung _ . Once it was cleaned, a healing spell from Lorenz closed the wound; it would take time for the muscle and whatnot to heal, but Lorenz wouldn’t bleed out or have the wound grow infected, and that was the important part.

“Hey, Lorenz?”

“What?” Lorenz asked, looking to Claude, who was looking thoughtfully at the bloody water that resulted from cleaning up the wound site.

“Just...why?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you get hurt on  _ my _ behalf? Based upon the positioning of you and the archer, I would hazard that the bolt was originally meant for  _ me _ .”

“You are both a king and under my protection,” Lorenz snapped. “As a noble, it is my duty to ensure your safety, and you would not have evaded the bolt in time on your own.”

“Lorenz…” Claude sighed heavily. “Thank you.”

“Do not mention it--truly,” Lorenz replied curtly. He also had promised Nader that he would look after Claude, so he would. He might not like it, but his preferences very rarely came into consideration when it came to his obligations as nobility. The fear he had felt, knowing that Claude may have been injured had he not intervened, was uncomfortable to recognize, so he shoved the memory of the emotion down and away. 

“I know you said to drop it, and I normally would, but...I don’t  _ understand _ . Why didn’t you just call out? I probably would have dodged in time. Spot’s quite nimble.”

“ _ Probably _ isn’t an acceptable risk, Your Royal Majesty,” Lorenz said. “It is  _ imperative _ that you stay alive, both for your home country and for the peace between our lands. Can you imagine what would happen if word got out that you were killed on my watch, by Fodlanese bandits? It would start an all-out war, not just the platry border skirmishes we’ve dealt with for generations.”

Claude clearly couldn’t argue with that, but his eyes narrowed slightly in what Lorenz interpreted as anger. “You think that  _ you _ getting killed while traveling with me wouldn’t be looked upon suspiciously?”

“While we may not like each other, the Professor knows us both well enough that they would never assume that you set up my assassination,” Lorenz said with a dismissive wave, hiding a wince as the motion made his shoulder twinge in pain. “Everyone in power believes in you, so my death would be mourned, but accepted as an accident.”

“Well, I find it unacceptable,” Claude said. “Do not...do not get hurt on my behalf, Lorenz.”

“Worried for me, Claude?” Lorenz teased and patted Claude’s shoulder condescendingly. “It will take more than a mere arrow to bring down Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.”

Claude snorted and shrugged off Lorenz’s hand. “Clearly.”

“We’re still splitting watch,” Lorenz said, which caused Claude to crack a smile. 

“You and your concept of nobility is absolutely  _ baffling _ sometimes,” Claude said. “You expect special treatment, except when you don’t.” 

“The nobility, particularly those with the power of Crests, are meant to be  _ protectors _ , so naturally they deserve special treatment, as we are capable of things many cannot dream of,” Lorenz said. “At the same time, if a noble should fail in their duties, they deserve no more consideration than the most common thug--as was the case with the two former-Kingdom nobles that we dealt with during our school days. I do not see where the confusion lies.”

“...I get the feeling you didn’t learn  _ that _ from your father, considering what he was willing to do to prevent the Riegan Dukedom from flourishing.”

“Father always was concerned with our House first and everyone else second,” Lorenz hedged. “Mother and my studies convinced me that looking beyond our own interests benefits more people more substantially. Power is meant to be used, but the abuse of it isn’t just ignoble, it’s unforgivable. Speaking of power, why were you fighting so badly?”

“Excuse you?” Claude said, frowning.

“You were missing quite a bit, far more than I ever remember you during the war. You...overcompensated on a lot of the shots.”

Claude was silent for a moment before sighing. “Damn. I’d hoped you hadn’t noticed.”

“Of course I noticed, Claude--it’s  _ you _ .”

Claude quirked an eyebrow at that and said, “Wyverns and horses move differently and I haven’t actually ridden a horse since I was last in Fodlan. I’m woefully out of practice on horseback is all. Spot made up for a lot of my mistakes, though--I’ll have to thank Hilda and Holst later for giving me an excellent steed.”

“Always relying on others to cover for your own weaknesses,” Lorenz commented dryly. “At least you acknowledge them.”

“Unlike you?”

“My only weakness is a disinclination to hand-to-hand combat,” Lorenz said breezily. “So uncivilized.”

Claude snorted at that and shook his head. “Well, you  _ seem _ fine enough. Your white magic will keep the wound closed?”

“And free of infection,” Lorenz said. “You did...an admirable job cleaning the wound, and I appreciate your assistance in removing the bolt.”

“You’re welcome,” Claude said. “I’ll make us dinner, don’t worry about helping.”

“There needs to be water on to boil for tea, too.”

Claude rolled his eyes and made a dismissive  _ of course _ gesture before setting about preparing dinner. 

Lorenz absently reached out and touched the still-warm and tender skin over the newly-closed wound and allowed himself a soft sigh. Claude was  _ probably _ right in that he could have called out to him and avoided being injured, but it had been...instinctual, almost, the fear a  _ visceral _ reaction to Claude’s life being in danger. That was...unsettling and strange, although perhaps no more so than how the memory of Claude’s hands on his body, deftly cleaning away congealed blood lingered, Claude’s expression neutral in the way that said he was worried. There had been...tenderness of a sort in Claude’s actions in spite of the pain and violence necessary to finish removing the bolt from Lorenz’s shoulder, and  _ that _ wasn’t something Lorenz was used to at all.

_ But, why is my being hurt unacceptable? _ Lorenz mused as he looked at the ruined mess that was his protective undershirt and promptly burned it--there was no salvaging it and he had an extra in his pack. He pushed himself upright and wandered over to Shadow, who lightly headbutted his non-injured shoulder in greeting. Lorenz petted him and whispered reassurances and praise before finding an apple for Shadow and his spare shirt. He  _ felt _ Claude’s eyes on him and suppressed a shiver. He  _ did _ that sometimes, simply  _ watched _ Lorenz, and Lorenz wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Still, he wasn’t going to bring up the question of  _ why _ with Claude--that would just be awkward. 

Dinner was a quiet affair, although once again full of a vocabulary lesson and a rather charming story about Claude and his mother cooking Fodlanese food in the palace’s kitchen together to the dismay of the servants, before Claude turned in to catch some sleep before his watch, leaving Lorenz to brood over the day’s events and his reaction to a threat to Claude’s well-being.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone who reads, comments, or kudos--I appreciate your taking the time to read my work :) As a side note, this chapter establishes all the other pairings in the story, but most are unimportant except for simply knowing what they are; only Claurenz is going to have a substantial part.
> 
> And, nothing belongs to me. Never has and never will. Alas.

“Fodlanese and Almyran come from the same base language, so why is your counting system so  _ cussed _ ?” Lorenz asked, bewildered over who the hell thought it was a good idea for eighty to be  _ two-thirties-two-tens _ ?

Claude chuckled. “What can I say? Fodlanese has some pretty strange quirks, too. You’re a remarkably quick study, you know.”

“Just another one of my talents,” Lorenz said, declining to mention that his time spent while on watch was often split between paying attention to their surroundings and practicing the vocabulary and pronunciation. He was  _ certain _ he’d have a Fodlanese accent, but as long as he was understandable, that was what mattered. “You, however, still hold the lance as if it’s going to bite you, which is throwing off your ability to balance.”

“It’s just unwieldy,” Cluade said.

“Given the size of Failnaught and the likely strength required to draw such a bow, I don’t see why you’re having trouble,” Lorenz commented.

“The bones of the Nabateans seem to be hollow, so Failnaught is actually quite light,” Claude said. “Do you want to hold it?”

“No, thank you,” Lorenz said. “While I know I am no danger by merely holding the Relic, the memory of Sylvain’s disowned brother still sometimes haunts my dreams.”

“Yeah,” Claude agreed. “I wonder  _ why _ , though. Do you think it might be some kind of...revenge?”

“Revenge?”

“For killing them,” Claude semi-clarified. “The heart--the Crest Stone--recognizes their blood and so won’t hurt the Crest-bearer, but transforms any human, descendants of those who perpetrated the tragedy at Zanado, into monsters in retribution for their deaths.”

“A roundabout method, but not outside the realm of possibility, all things considered,” Lorenz commented. “I have been pondering something you said.”

“Oh?”

“How did your mother keep your Crest a secret from you?” Lorenz asked. “Surely you wondered why some of the more specialized attacks you learned and used against opponents left you feeling invigorated.”

“I chalked it up to the heat of battle,” Claude said. “And the Crest was dormant most of the time anyway, given that my preferred route of revenge is poison and not combat.”

“How did its existence come out, then?”

Claude was silent for a  _ very _ long time, but Lorenz forced himself to be patient. How rigidly Claude held himself in the saddle said that the memory wasn’t a pleasant one. 

“Mom and I were out hunting together to practice my archery,” Claude eventually said, his voice clipped and tight. “We had brought what we believed to be trusted retainers to watch our backs, since we were both targets, just for different reasons. Turned out that they were assassins playing the long game and separated Mom and I. I was hurt...pretty badly, but I was both angry and scared, so pulled out a rather advanced trick shot I had learned and successfully one-shot killed the assassin meant for me. As the life vanished from his eyes, it felt like it was somehow...transferred to me. All of my wounds healed in an instantaneous surge of power, and there was no  _ normal _ way to explain that. Mom found me not longer after, covered in my own blood from the wounds that had been inflicted, but in weirdly perfect health. She looked...pretty much the same, so I demanded answers. Once we were back home, cleaned up, and given clean bills of health, she sat me down and explained Crests to the best of her ability.” 

“Claude...”

“That was when I decided I needed to know more about my Fodlanese heritage. I had all this  _ power _ sleeping within me, and no idea what to do with it. Mom reached out to her father, who was thrilled to discover that he had a grandson and, after they did a blood test to confirm that I indeed had the Crest and was his grandson, was made heir, to Mom’s protest,” Claude continued. “Dad figured it would be a good form of political training for my eventual ascension, so was on board with me journeying to Fodlan, even if he was a bit tearful about his baby boy leaving home to be so far away in a nest of vipers, if the stories that Mom told of the Alliance had even a grain of truth in them.”

“Did the Alliance turn out to be as bad as your mother’s stories?”

Claude was silent for a longer moment, the silence slightly more tense than previously, before he eventually sighed and said, “She told me to expect all of the nobles of the Alliance to be self-serving and that nothing short of an all-out war would make them all work together. She was right, of course.”

“...what  _ aren’t _ you saying, Claude? No, wait. Let me guess--she told you to watch your step around any Gloucesters you came across, since my father was responsible for your uncle’s death.”

“It was only ever theorized--are you confirming it?”

Lorenz nodded sadly. “It came out when my father and I were...discussing matters in the Alliance during the war. He felt I was betraying our House and endangering our territory by siding with you. He hadn’t dirtied his hands just so I could step aside and let a--well, let you take the reins without a fight.”

It had been one of the worst arguments that Lorenz had had with his father, and had left him badly shaken for days, even though he  _ had _ stood his ground. His father hadn’t raised a hand to him that time, but it didn’t escape Lorenz’s notice that his father’s monetary contribution to the Alliance war effort had been nonexistent and that the troops he provided were far from the same caliber as what the other nobles offered. 

“I get the feeling he had more choice words regarding me than you said,” Claude said dryly.

Lorenz kept his expression neutral, but the vitriol his father had spouted had startled even him. A part of him distantly felt ashamed for not standing up for Claude, but he had been younger and weaker, still reliant on his father then. While he could excuse and explain his silence, it didn’t  _ feel _ good. 

“Well, it’s not like I couldn’t like him any less than I already do,” Claude said as he stretched--it was a habit which Lorenz was beginning to recognize as something Claude did when emotionally uncomfortable, as if loosening his body would allow his feelings to relax as well. “Since we’re discussing uncomfortable family secrets, want to know why my mom ran?”

“If you’ll tell me, I will listen.”

“She was engaged to your father,” Claude said, looking over. “It was an arranged marriage, signed and sealed when your father and my mom were both very young. When it became apparent the kind of person your father is...well, my mom wanted nothing to do with it, and her older brother was equally vehemently against it. I guess your father thought that getting rid of my uncle would make her more amenable  _ somehow _ , when it just made her flee the country rather than get stuck with him.”

_ I can see that happening, _ Lorenz thought.  _ Father has a tendency to just get rid of inconvenient things that stand in the way of the perceived progress of our House. _

“I...understand that desire,” Lorenz reluctantly admitted.

“You wanted to run away from home?” Claude asked, curious.

“Once or twice,” Lorenz said. “Father was...strict. I know now it was for my own good, but it occasionally felt unfair. I imagine every child thinks their parents’ punishments are unfair, though. Do you have any siblings?”

Claude shook his head. “None that survived. I should have had an older sister, but she died when one of her caretakers smothered her in her sleep to prevent foreign blood from infiltrating the royal line. After that, mom had two miscarriages before she had me, and I had a younger sister who died when she was three because of a plague that swept through the country. Dad has plenty of brothers and sisters, though, so I have a lot of cousins. Very few of whom liked me growing up, and who like me even  _ less _ now. You don’t have any siblings, though, right?”

“I’m an only child,” Lorenz confirmed. “As soon as it became apparent I had inherited the Crest, there was no need for any more children. I am sorry for your losses, though.”

“I can’t really remember my younger sister, so there’s not much loss,” Claude said with a wry, unpleasant smile. “Do you mind if I ask a probably stupid question?”

“Depends on how stupid it is.”

“Do your parents  _ love _ each other?”

Lorenz frowned. “I’ve never felt the need to ask them. They kept their relationship fairly private.”

“Right,” Claude said, and seemed to turn inward in thought.

The question, now posed,  _ nagged _ at Lorenz.  _ Did _ his parents love each other? Although, the more important question was, did that  _ matter _ ? A noble marriage was very rarely about love, but more about joining two houses and strengthening one’s position economically, politically, or socially. Love was something that came later, if at all. Lorenz’s personal insistence on actually caring for and about his future-wife was almost seen as a  _ weakness _ by his family.

“ _ Love is for peasants, bards, and fools. Remove such pointless romantic drivel from your mind. Such frivolity only clouds one’s judgement and makes one indecisive, which must be avoided at all costs as a scion of House Gloucester.” _

That had come from his father after they had a rather clinical discussion about sex and marriage which had left a young Lorenz wondering why so many novels and operas made a big deal out of both. They had important functions, sure, but were, at least according to his father, of little consequence on their own. His mother had softened the view his father had tried to impart, which was why Lorenz retained a rather desperately romantic nature at his core that only found expression in his poetry; however, his duty as a noble came first and foremost. He would marry eventually, whether or not he loved the woman. There was always the possibility that love could blossom between them, even if it was not initially there. That was the hope, anyway. 

The silence between them as they traveled was absent and thoughtful, Lorenz combing his memories to try to find any example of his parents demonstrating that they  _ loved _ each other, but he found himself constantly reaching and trying to justify something as  _ love _ when it very clearly wasn’t. The only time they seemed to touch each other was when they were required to dance at a ball, or when they were walking together when visiting a fellow noble or hosting someone. At family dinners, they sat at opposite sides of the table, Lorenz an uncomfortable presence in the middle.

Lorenz had never seen his father raise a hand to his mother, instead directing any annoyance he may have felt towards her at him. Lorenz hadn’t minded, since it meant he was protecting his mother, and she always seemed so sad, so delicate--as fragile as spun glass. She was sick fairly often. If his parents hadn’t had many physical relations, it was likely because her body was too weak to withstand it. That she was still alive was remarkable, but she carried a minor Crest that hadn’t been passed on to him--the Crest of Macuil--and that extra power may be what sustained her. It was a question to ask Hanneman, should he ever have the inclination or time. 

_ So, then...no, _ Lorenz eventually decided.  _ They don’t love each other. They...perhaps  _ tolerate  _ is the best word to describe their relationship. _

Lorenz spent the time until lunch trying to find a  _ loving _ marriage amongst the nobility he knew, and constantly found himself coming up short, at least in his father’s generation. Amongst his peers, love seemed to be the norm, rather than the exception. From the various letters they had exchanged, either for diplomatic reasons or personal ones, it seemed that he and Claude were the only remaining bachelors amongst their classmates. 

Sylvain and Felix had married both Annette and each other; it was rumored that Ingrid and Ashe were wed, although Lorenz hadn’t managed to confirm that rumor--he hoped it was true. They made a cute couple. 

Ignatz had bashfully admitted to marrying Leonie when the two showed up in Glouceter territory together, Leonie looking for work while Ignatz searched for artistic inspiration; Raphael had settled down with Bernadetta, while Dorothea had gone to Brigid with Petra before becoming her wife. Lorenz had met with Lindhardt and Caspar once when the two were traveling through his lands--due to some ruckus Caspar caused by being Caspar--and, the goddess as his witness, even if the two weren’t officially married, they were never going to marry anyone else. He didn’t see why Marianne would  _ refuse _ , so Marianne and Hilda were engaged, or would be shortly.

During one of their correspondences, Lysithea had told him that Cyril had confessed his love for her and she had accepted, now that she had ‘a full life to live.’ Lorenz had asked what that phrase meant, but had received an evasive non-answer in reply, so let it drop. During the course of that letter, Lysithea had also told him that Hanneman and Manuela had decided that, given that they bickered like a married couple, they might as well become one, to the delight and horror of the students; Shamir and Catherine had committed to each other, to the surprise of absolutely no one. The Professor and Ferdinand had been married from almost the founding of the new United Nation of Fodlan, and were, at least according to Lysithea, still very much in love with each other. 

Besides Mercedes, who was happily dedicating her life to the church and not a spouse, Lorenz and Claude were the only two loose ends. It felt...odd. He, who  _ had _ to marry, was still unmarried long after most of his friends and classmates had found their own happiness.

_ Found their happiness, _ Lorenz repeated to himself, turning the phrase over in his mind.  _ Is that the difference? They were looking for happiness and love, while I was looking for only marriage. But, what would that look like for me? _

Lorenz tried to imagine the ideal woman for him, a woman whom he could be happy with, whom he could love, and his mind immediately presented to him all the  _ requirements _ that had been drilled into him from the time he had begun to understand romantic and sexual attraction. It didn’t matter what he  _ wanted _ , this was what he  _ needed _ in order to do right by his House. He needed a  _ worthy _ wife, but...what did that even  _ mean _ ?

“Copper for your thoughts,” Claude said, his voice making Lorenz jump slightly as they let their horses rest for a while near a stream so they could take lunch as well. 

“Ah, nothing consequential,” Lorenz said. “Merely wool-gathering.”

“Your expression was quite serious for daydreaming.”

Lorenz shook his head. “How are you holding up? You said you haven’t ridden since you were last in Fodlan, and it’s not hard to see that you’re uncomfortable in this kind of saddle.”

“I’ve faced worse discomfort than this,” Claude said dismissively. “Why don’t I teach you some riding and flying terminology?”

After an extensive vocabulary lesson and Claude making him repeat back words he had learned the day prior until he was satisfied, they were back on the road, Shadow stepping pretty, probably because he felt like showing off what a  _ warhorse _ was to the hunting steed they were traveling with--and likely because he thought Lorenz wasn’t paying him half as much attention as he should, so Lorenz made sure to heap praises upon the stallion until he settled down.

Claude looked like he was  _ barely _ not laughing.

“He saved our lives yesterday and I didn’t thank him enough,” Lorenz said, not quite sure where his annoyance was coming from. 

“Sure, sure,” Claude said, with a dismissive ‘of course’ gesture. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, it just made me miss my wyvern. He’s just as much of a show-off.”

“I remember,” Lorenz said. “I still don’t know how you managed to hold on when he performed some of his more elaborate aerial maneuvers.”

“Practice,” Claude replied simply.

Due to the full canopy of leaves, it didn’t dawn on Lorenz that it had become suspiciously dark for mid-afternoon until the heavens opened up and it began to rain hard enough to penetrate even the thick cover. 

“Come! I think I remember a cave that is frequented by travelers being near here!” Lorenz yelled as the rain patter crescendoed into a near-deafening downpour.

Claude, perversely, looked delighted to have been caught in the rain, even as he spurred Spot to follow after Shadow. The heavy rainfall easily penetrated through to the two riders, and Lorenz could  _ feel _ the moisture working its way in-between the chinks in his armor, slowly soaking his protective undergarments through and plastering his hair to his head. He almost missed the entrance to the path that would take them to the cave, but managed to point it out just in time, the formerly firm dirt turning into sucking mud. Claude easily made the change in direction, and, after a few more minutes, the ground turning swampy and mist-covered, they came out into a clearing that revealed the cave. The rain was coming down hard enough that it was difficult to see the cave entrance, and by the time they had finished carefully crossing the clearing, they were very thoroughly drenched.

Claude was  _ laughing _ , which only served to make Lorenz’s misery more acute. 

“Oh, come on,” Claude said as he dismounted in the cave and began to take the tack off his horse. “We managed to find shelter rather quickly--we got  _ lucky. _ ”

“Perhaps, but not before becoming completely soaked through,” Lorenz lamented as he removed his own horse’s gear. “It was  _ clear skies _ , else I would’ve had my rain cloak out.”

“Hey, do you think you could take care of the rest for me? I’ll go find some dry wood--or, at least  _ some _ wood so we can start a fire. You can do that with your magic, right?”

“You’ll need to find more wood than usual, since the fire will initially burn hotter.”

“Not a problem, being in the middle of a forest,” Claude replied with a lop-sided grin. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

With that, he took off, leaving Lorenz to care for  _ both _ their horses. It was an oddly nostalgic experience, and reminded Lorenz of all the times that they had been assigned to work the stables together--and Claude’s dogged determination to slack off as much as possible.

_ Hopefully he  _ is _ gathering firewood,  _ Lorenz thought as his armor squeaked and chaffed against his protective underclothing,which was stuck to his skin in uncomfortable places and manners.  _ I doubt he’d be slacking off this time, since catching a cold would be equally bad for him, and there is no need for the horses to be uncomfortable. _

By the time he had finished taking care of the horses, wiping them down and rolling out what needed drying, he was shivering slightly from the dampness of his own clothes, and was more relieved that he felt he had the right to be when Claude returned with a significant haul of wood for a fire before darting out two more times for more. Once he had gathered what he deemed a sufficient amount, Claude set up a fire pit and organized the logs; a small surge of arcane fire later, a cheerful blaze was crackling in the cave, a bit more smoky than normal due to the damp nature of the wood, but it was warm, and that was what mattered. 

“You’re drenched,” Lorenz observed with disapproval.

“Eh, I’ve been caught in worse,” Claude said dismissively.

“Take off your clothes and armor so they can dry near the fire,” Lorenz said. “There is no reason for you to catch your death and I packed an extra blanket that is still dry.”

“What about you? You gonna dry everything as well?”

“Of course,” Lorenz replied. “We can’t go anywhere in this weather, and I’m already beginning to feel a chill.”

After doffing his armor, Lorenz made sure to dry it with a spare towel to keep everything from rusting, ignoring how uncomfortable his wet protective underclothes were against his skin. Armor properly cared for could last a lifetime, and the set he wore had been specially made for him, which meant he wanted to keep it in as good a shape as possible for as long as possible. The hole from the crossbow bolt was gruesome and  _ frustrating _ .

“Wet leather is the  _ worst _ ,” Lorenz overheard Claude grumble. “Small mercy is that it won’t  _ shrink _ because of how it was treated.”

Unbidden and unwanted, an image of Claude in skin-tight, full-body leather armor popped into Lorenz’s head, and he quickly--nervously--dispelled the picture, refusing to dwell on  _ why _ it would have arisen in the first place.

_ That _ occurrence made him strangely reluctant to remove his drenched underclothes, but they were only making him  _ colder _ , so needed to dry. He stripped and positioned his clothes near the fire, the warmth from the flame delightful enough that he lingered too close for a little too long, a spark that popped off the log nearly landing on his skin. He quickly retreated to his bag, rifling through it to find the extra waterproof blanket he had packed.

“You have a spare blanket, too, yes?” Lorenz said, looking up to see Claude facing away from him, warming himself in front of the fire, as naked as Lorenz. 

“I wasn’t as good about sealing my supplies, so it got wet,” Claude said and pointed to the blanket that was laid out on the ground, slightly glistening with moisture. “I figured I could use it as a place to sit, since it’s just wet enough that using it for warmth might be counterproductive.”

Lorenz hesitated, then sighed softly to himself. He was acting as Claude’s protector on their journey, and that meant caring for him  _ first _ in spite of the irresponsibility of his actions. 

“Here,” Lorenz said and walked over, draping his dry, spare blanket around Claude’s shoulders. “Can’t have you catching your death due to a silly rainstorm.”

“Thanks,” Claude said, his voice cautiously neutral, although he did reflexively pull the blanket closer to him. “You sure you don’t…?”

“I’ll be fine,” Lorenz said, waving away his concern. “I’ll boil some water for tea--the warm fluid will help as well. Go sit.”

Claude watched Lorenz for a long moment, then complied. 

The movement and need to focus to ensure that the water boiled and tea steeped properly kept Lorenz’s mind occupied, even if his skin had goosebumps all over and he was suppressing shivers, and the trickle of dampness from his wet hair down his spine was only part of the reason. Claude’s eyes  _ lingered _ , an uncomfortable caress that Lorenz wasn’t sure how to interpret. The gaze didn’t feel licentious or lewd, but there was still something to it that left Lorenz uneasy, even as he had to stop himself from posturing. He had some height on Claude and took good care of his body to remain fit, so someone potentially  _ admiring _ his hard work was gratifying--even if that person was  _ Claude _ . 

Lorenz made the tea in silence, and while it most certainly wasn’t his best pot ever, it certainly was far superior to whatever one managed to get in taverns and restaurants. 

“I know you don’t favor it, but drink it, if only for the warmth,” Lorenz said, holding out a steaming mug to Claude.

“Yes, mom,” Claude drawled, but took the tea from him, curling his fingers around the mug with an almost inaudible sigh of pleasure. 

Lorenz stood close to the fire, putting physical space between the two of them, because that  _ teasing _ comment meant that the emotional space Lorenz thought they had maybe wasn’t as marked as he hoped.

_ This whole situation is...complicated, _ Lorenz thought as he nursed his tea.

“Lorenz.”

“What?” Lorenz half-snapped, drawn out of wandering musings on nothing to the reality of the dismal cave and Claude.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“So we can share the blanket,” Claude said, and unfurled it, opening to reveal his lithe, tanned torso. “Being that close to the fire is dangerous, and we need  _ you _ to stay healthy as well. You’re the magic-user between us--my field medicine is nothing compared to your white magic.”

Lorenz fought with himself for a moment, before he let out a soft sigh and said, “Let me put more wood on, and I’ll be over.”

After quickly rearranging the fire until it was a bright blaze, Lorenz padded over, taking a seat next to Claude. Lorenz’s shoulders tensed when Claude draped both his arm and the blanket around him, and Lorenz was  _ acutely _ aware of every place their skin touched, which made him reflexively shiver.

“I’m glad you joined me if you’re shivering like that,” Claude said, clearly misinterpreting the reason, instead moving closer. Lorenz, after a moment’s hesitation, reached behind Claude and braced one of his hands behind the other man’s back so they were as close as possible, which made it easier to share the blanket. The waterproofing made it smell a little strange, but the discomfort of the smell was nothing compared to the squirming discomfort that came from being so  _ close _ to Claude. 

“How long do you think the rain will last?” Lorenz asked in an effort to distract himself from how  _ warm _ Claude was and how nice it felt to have Claude’s arm around his shoulders. 

“Dunno,” Claude admitted. “With how dense the forest is, it is a bit difficult to tell, but I got the feeling it isn’t going to let up any time soon.”

“How unfortunate,” Lorenz said flatly. “I was hoping to reach the town by the end of today.”

“Hey, I could be wrong,” Claude said. 

Those were the last words spoken for a  _ long _ time, as they lapsed into an almost  _ soft _ silence as they watched the rain come down in ever heavier sheets outside the cave mouth; Lorenz was grateful for the fire and, to his consternation, Claude’s body heat.

_ Why is this...comfortable _ ? Lorenz wondered as the fire snapped and smoked and crackled, bright against the darker, dismal background of the cave mouth.  _ It should be awkward, shouldn't it? _

Lorenz was drawn out of his wandering musings by Claude  _ twitching _ and a short, snorting-snore from the other man. Lorenz was surprised by the chuckle that escaped him as he shifted so Claude leaning bonelessly against him was more comfortable for them both.

_ That _ consideration brought Lorenz up short, as did the gentle ghosting of Claude’s breath against his (Lorenz’s) neck. Claude seemed to reflexively cuddle closer, and Lorenz found his face heating. 

_ He better be actually asleep, because if this is intentional, we are going to have a  _ discussion, Lorenz thought, but based on the occasional reflexive twitches from Claude, it seemed he was legitimately asleep. 

_ I suppose first watch is mine, then, _ Lorenz thought.  _ It’s not even that late, though. Has he really been sleeping that poorly, to fall asleep so quickly and deeply? He is remarkably good at keeping his weaknesses hidden. _

The shoulder that was still healing throbbed slightly from the damp, which compounded the irritation he felt with himself for the distinct sense of  _ lack _ that came when Claude’s arm limply slipped down his (Lorenz’s) side, the muscles no longer able to maintain the necessary tension due to Claude being fast asleep. 

Lorenz grabbed the blanket before it could slide off, but felt strangely bereft without Claude’s arm around his shoulders.

_ What nonsense _ , Lorenz scoffed and resettled himself, the blanket, and Claude. He tried to think of  _ anything _ besides how nice the semi-embrace had felt, how having Claude leaning against him was actually pleasant, how he felt...strong, in a way. Claude would not have fallen so deeply asleep unless he trusted him (Lorenz) to guard him while he was vulnerable--and they both certainly were. However, Lorenz always had magic at his beck and call, while Claude would have to get his bow and arrows, and considering the bow was unstrung, it would take precious moments to prepare. That Lorenz had an inborn defense, had power he could use at a moment’s notice, and that Claude seemed to believe he  _ would _ use it to protect them both...was empowering.

When Claude began to slip away and out of the blanket, Lorenz pulled him back closer. It must have been too rough, though, since Claude woke up with a start, fear temporarily in his eyes until he processed where he was and who he was with.

“Sorry, did I fall asleep?” he asked around a yawn.

“Do not concern yourself over it,” Lorenz replied. “You were about to fall. I’m sorry if I was too abrupt.”

“Someone tried to kidnap me once when I was sleeping,” Claude murmured and, after the slightest hesitation, leaned on Lorenz again, resting his head on Lorenz’s shoulder and curling his arm around Lorenz’s waist. “My mother stopped them before they could escape with me.”

“I’m glad she did,” Lorenz said with firmness that surprised him.

“She’s always been fierce,” Claude said, and he was close enough that Lorenz could feel the brush of Claude’s lips against his skin as he smiled.

“If you want, you can go back to sleep,” Lorenz said. “You clearly need it.”

“Worried about me, Count Gloucester?”

“Indeed, Your Royal Majesty,” Lorenz replied, uncertain why Claude would choose to use his official title, but more than capable of doing the same. “That you were able to fall asleep while in such perilous conditions say you haven’t been sleeping well. I have been remiss to not notice such.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m a light sleeper usually, and being out in the woods traveling just puts me a little more on edge.”

“Because someone tried to kill or capture you when you were out in the woods in Almyra? Or is it a memory from the war? I do not remember confronting Maurice in that fog-drenched forest fondly.”

“All of the above,” Claude said, his tone markedly neutral. 

To his own surprise, Lorenz pulled Claude closer and murmured, “You are safe with me.”

They were close enough that Lorenz  _ felt _ Claude’s breath hitch before a soft, slightly bitter laugh escaped Claude.

“Really?” Claude asked, his voice soft and full of unpleasant memories. 

“Yes,” Lorenz confirmed. “So, get the rest you need. I’ll stand watch for however long is necessary.”

“If you say so,” Claude replied. 

“But, if you  _ are _ to get some sleep, I’d rather you not do so in this position,” Lorenz said. “It’s uncomfortable for us both.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Sit in front of me,” Lorenz said and patted the ground between his spread legs. “That way you can fall back against me and not onto stone.”

“That’s...oddly considerate of you.”

“I should have noticed your exhaustion,” Lorenz said, shaking his head slowly. “Consider this...penance of sorts.”

“If you say so.”

Claude hesitated ever so slightly before crawling over Lorenz’s leg and settled so his back was against Lorenz’s chest.

Lorenz readjusted the blanket around them both to make sure Claude was adequately covered, clasped his hands loosely over Claude’s stomach, then said, “There. Better, yes?”

“Yeah,” Claude said, his voice strangely tight. “Definitely more comfortable than leaning on your bony shoulder.”

Lorenz scoffed, which prompted a chuckle out of Claude, but no other commentary. As the silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of the rain and sizzle-hiss-pop of wet firewood Lorenz felt Claude leaning more and more heavily on him until his breathing evened out again. 

Lorenz couldn't be entirely sure if Claude was faking sleep, but decided not to care. Too many things were bothering him, and his mind kept going in circles around possible explanations, leaving him conflicted and wide awake.

The minutes passed as if moving through syrup, the passage of time only truly recognizable by the dimming of already grey twilight further and changes in severity of rain. Lorenz’s mind wandered down dark, sad lanes he often left unexplored, if only because reminiscing about his family and childhood only brought up the intense feelings of  _ isolation _ that had haunted him the majority of his youth. 

_ Things weren’t so different with Claude, though, were they? _ Lorenz thought absently as he looked askance at the man in his arms.  _ While he  _ should _ have had siblings, they were both taken from him and his status as half-Fodlanese caused him no end of grief. _

It was an odd thing to feel a connection over, but it was there, and Lorenz was unnerved by it. While it was hard to tell time without the moon or stars as reference, Lorenz’s body began to protest the lack of sleep and the fire was dwindling. However, when he shifted to shake Claude awake, the man simply turned into his body and snuggled closer with a content sigh.

Lorenz would normally find an extended watch shift onerous, but Claude clearly needed rest if he hadn’t woken even when he (Lorenz) had moved. In truth, it felt a little like a guilty secret, being privy to Claude while he was so unguarded. His occasional snores were bizarrely endearing, mumbled phrases in a mixture of Almyran and Fodlanese passing his lips as he dreamed. Without the context of the dream itself, they were rather strange, but it gave Lorenz something to ponder while the hours wore away. Claude also turned in his arms at a glacially slow pace, and Lorenz didn’t realize that the man had curled up so his head was resting just below his chin, his cheek pressed to Lorenz’s chest, arms loosely encircling his waist, Claude’s knees resting on one of Lorenz’s thighs, until it dawned on Lorenz that they were breathing in time. It was almost  _ soothing _ , and left Lorenz feeling somehow internally warm as well as externally, since Claude ran hot. 

It was also...pleasant...just  _ holding _ Claude, and he caught himself absently  _ petting _ Claude more than once, his fingertips lightly following the dips and curves of the musculature of Claude’s back and shoulders. Lorenz could count on one hand the number of times he had been as close to another person as he was to Claude at the moment.

Lorenz was absently tracing magical sigils on Claude’s back as an effort to keep himself awake by reviewing all he knew about magic when Claude abruptly tensed, a soft sound of distress escaping him. Lorenz himself froze, but based on how Claude remained otherwise still, he figured that the man was likely caught in a nightmare. It was a moment of utter vulnerability that left Lorenz flustered and floored without quite knowing  _ why _ . All he knew was that the muted, choked cries were somehow physically painful to  _ him _ , and he wanted to draw Claude out of his nightmare without overly startling him.

One of Lorenz’s most cherished childhood memories was of his mother singing him a lullaby when he was so sick that  _ sleeping _ hurt. It had been a rare moment of softness from an otherwise distant woman, and he clung to it as proof that she felt  _ something _ for him that wasn’t simply obligation. It was an old, simple song, and, as far as he could tell, universal across Fodlan, so Claude’s mother had likely sung him to sleep with it, too. Perhaps it would bring him some comfort…?

_ Not that I know why I care, _ Lorenz thought, mildly irritated with himself over being worried about  _ Claude _ . He nonetheless cleared his throat and started to sing, keeping his voice low and his touches feather-light as he stroked Claude’s back. It took surprisingly little time for Claude to settle once Lorenz had started, the tension in his body melting away as he turned even further into Lorenz’s body, holding onto him more firmly. 

It felt...nice, to be needed. Lorenz only stopped singing once he was sure Claude was fully at ease.

Unfortunately, it was hard to keep away the chill without being able to resupply the fire with fuel, so eventually the cold from no campfire seemed to penetrate even through the blanket’s warmth, causing Claude to rouse. 

“Awake finally, are you?” Lorenz asked, weirdly breathless as Claude seemed to reflexively snuggle closer as he woke, probably in an effort to get away from the cold. 

“Lorenz?” Claude asked, sleepiness clinging to his voice that was nonetheless laced with confusion and more than a little apprehension.

“I tried to wake you for your shift, but you were dead to the world,” Lorenz said. 

“Sorry,” Claude murmured and slowly uncurled, stretching to shake off some of the sleepiness. Lorenz wasn’t expecting Claude to flop back down against him, his head resting on the top of Lorenz’s shoulder as he looked up. “What time is it, do you think?”

“After midnight is all I know for certain,” Lorenz said with a shrug, Claude’s head bobbing slightly with the movement. “The rain has stopped as well, so we should be able to leave after breakfast. I would like to get in some sleep though.”

Lorenz nudged Claude into sitting on his own, then stood, draping the blanket around Claude’s shoulders as he went to check on his clothes, which he was grateful to find dry. 

“Where are you going?” Claude asked, sounding oddly wounded.

“I want to lie down,” Lorenz said as he brushed any debris off his clothes. “It was not exactly  _ comfortable _ , sitting in one position for so long. I have no idea how  _ you _ managed to sleep.”

“Well...thank you for supporting me and keeping me warm.”

“Can’t have you getting sick, Your Majesty,” Lorenz said as he pulled on his clothes. 

It was quick work to lay out his bedroll as Claude re-started the fire after dressing himself, but sleep did not come easily, exhaustion only claiming him once Claude began to hum the lullaby he had sung.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, nothing FE:3H belong to me.
> 
> Thank you all for your patronage and any comments or kudos you choose to leave. :)

Lorenz caught Claude giving him  _ strange _ looks off and on throughout the morning, as if trying to unravel some kind of mystery that was proving stubbornly resistant to his efforts. Breakfast and morning practice had been quiet affairs, with Lorenz struggling to work through the desire to lay back down and get a few more hours of sleep; however, he also desperately wanted a bath and a bed, and both of those would be found at the village that they would reach around mid-afternoon. They’d shop for supplies, have dinner, and hopefully Claude would agree to turn in early so Lorenz could get adequate rest.

“If you have a question, I’d rather you  _ ask _ ,” Lorenz said when Claude’s gaze lingered too long.

“Only if you promise to answer truthfully,” Claude replied.

Lorenz inclined his head slightly. “Very well.”

Claude looked  _ deeply _ suspicious, but asked anyway: “When I was sleeping...did you ever happen to sing?”

“I did, yes,” Lorenz affirmed. “I needed  _ some _ way to pass the time and stay awake, you know.”

“Right,” Claude said, although Lorenz wasn’t sure what to make of the  _ thoughtful _ look on his face. 

After another long pause, Lorenz said, “What’s today? In Almyran terms, I mean.”

Claude told him the days of the week, then had Lorenz repeat them back until the pronunciation was correct.

“You’re doing pretty well for just starting out with the language,” Claude said. “It seems like you have quite the talented tongue.”

“All parts of me are talented,” Lorenz replied. “I’m naturally gifted.”

“Oh, is that so?” Claude asked, an odd note to his voice--it sounded almost  _ teasing _ .

“Yes.”

Claude chuckled and shook his head, then clucked to Spot to pick up his pace, leaving Lorenz trailing behind a little, perplexed and absolutely certain that he was missing something.

Claude seemed equally inclined to get to the village as soon as possible, so lunch was taken in the saddle, Claude quizzing Lorenz on various vocabulary and set phrases (‘Hello’/’Goodbye’/’Good morning’, etc.) as they rode along. 

As they grew closer to the village, they began to come across other travelers, farmers and hunters joining the expanded road. It was  _ obvious _ that both he and Claude were nobility, if just due to the quality of their horses, so they were given slightly more space, even when the road became more crowded. 

“Where’d all these people come from?” Claude mused. “The road has been nearly empty for the majority of our travel.”

“Riverton is the largest town between Eastern Fodlan and Garreg Mach,” Lorenz said. “It didn’t use to be any place of particular import, but given it is at a crossroads in the paths between Fodlan’s Throat, Derdiru, and the Monastery--the capital of the nation is at Garreg Mach--it has seen exponential growth.”

“It’s amazing, how fast things can change,” Claude observed. “There aren’t many permanent settlements in the interior of Almyra, although we have quite a few bustling and expansive port cities along both coasts. Aside from those, there’s a fortress relatively close to Fodlan’s Throat, the capital, and I think about two or three other cities that popped up around permanent oasis. Otherwise, you have individual homesteads and tribes that travel with their herds and the seasons.”

“It certainly doesn’t sound like an existence I would favor,” Lorenz commented. “Too much uncertainty.”

“There’s a certain appeal to the lack of permanence,” Claude replied. “But you’re landed nobility, so I’m not surprised that being constantly on the move isn't something you’d like.”

The signs of Riverton’s growing pains were obvious from the mismatched construction and shantytown that had cropped up in the outskirts. It seemed to be a place of equal prosperity and poverty, a chance for a new start if one was lucky enough or a dead end if one’s luck failed. Lorenz kept a  _ very _ close eye on its development, and frequently stopped by the town to ensure that the local government had the support it needed to succeed. Due to this, the guards stationed at the city’s gates recognized Lorenz and gave him hasty salutes, to which Lorenz responded with a beatific nod before entering the city proper, Claude a clearly amused step behind.

Lorenz had a particular inn he favored whenever he visited the city--the Dancing Rose--and his patronage of it was no secret. The vendors that lined the streets recognized his armor and called out their greetings and supplications. Lorenz responded to their hails and offered vague promises to return as they continued to wade through the throng.

“Look at you,” Claude said as he came up beside Lorenz, sounding impressed. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you? Even the Lorenz of the days of the war wouldn’t have been so…”

“So?”

“Available,” Claude eventually decided. “You were always seemingly acutely aware of the station of those around you and were often disinclined to speak to commoners  _ genuinely _ . And here you are making quick small talk with many people who are barely more than beggars.”

“The war...was eye-opening in a number of ways,” Lorenz eventually said. “But perhaps the thing that was the starkest shock was when you dumped the remnants of the Alliance in my lap and vanished. I have been preparing my whole life to lead the Alliance, but when faced with a war-torn land and all the challenges associated with rebuilding, I had to  _ finally _ grow up and grow beyond my preconceived notions of what it means to be  _ noble _ , let alone nobility.”

Claude hummed in intrigue, the sound also a nonverbal prompting to continue.

“During the war, Ferdinand would occasionally speak of a  _ noble heart _ in spite of losing his noble title due to Edelgard stripping his family of their rank, and I never once questioned why I still related to him as fellow nobility, even though he was technically a commoner. When he pointed that out to me one day over tea, it gave me...food for thought,” Lorenz said. “And when I had to wrangle citizens of the former Alliance territory into assisting, I often found that the commoners behaved more nobly than many of the landed gentry. So, while being  _ a _ noble is something one is born into, being  _ noble _ is an aspiration that anyone can aim for.”

Claude looked impressed, which was somehow both gratifying and annoying at the same time. 

“Here we are,” Lorenz said and gestured to the building. It was one of the largest buildings in the city with a well-appointed stable, and seemed to be doing brisk business. Lorenz dismounted upon entering the courtyard, and a stablehand immediately ran out to take both his and Claude’s horses; Lorenz pressed two silver pieces--one for him, and one for Claude--in the stablehand's palm before heading into the inn proper.

The interior was richly appointed with a subtle floral motif, and a permanently-employed bard sat in one corner, picking out tunes on her lute. The inn clearly catered to more wealthy clientele, and servants bustled about, hauling luggage for their guests up stairs and down hallways with practiced speed and strength. 

“Count Gloucester!” the innkeeper, Mortimer, greeted, clearly pleased to have Lorenz patronizing his establishment once more.

“Mortimer,” Lorenz greeted in return with a smile. “Busy as ever, I see.”

“All thanks to Your Grace.”

“Nonsense,” Lorenz said. “Do you have any rooms available? You seem fairly full based on the stables.”

Mortimer looked behind his desk and quickly flipped through a book, looking a little more concerned with each page before relief flashed across his face. “Yes, we do--it’s our last room, but it’s also our best. Will you two be staying together?”

Lorenz looked to Claude. “I suppose we have no other choice, since I don’t want to find another establishment.”

Claude shrugged dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

Lorenz declined Claude’s offer to help with payment for the room, as Lorenz suspected he was getting it discounted anyway, and they were each handed a key and given directions to their room; a servant with their saddlebags showed up behind them part of the way, and followed them to their temporary lodgings. 

Lorenz approved of the room, which was clean, well-appointed, and well-kempt--even if it  _ did _ only have one bed. He’d survive one night of sleeping in a chair, since every scrap of his breeding told him a king was  _ not _ supposed to sleep in a chair or on the floor, regardless of Lorenz’s personal feelings.

The servant left their bags near the door, then saw himself out, leaving Lorenz and Claude alone again.

“You can take the bed,” Lorenz said before Claude could speak.

“What?”

“ _ You _ are to use the bed,” Lorenz semi-clarified. “The chair looks fairly comfortable.”

“No, Lorenz--we can share.”

“Pardon?”

“The bed is large enough for two people,” Claude said. “And you being so concerned for me is unsettling.”

“Claude, you’re a--”

“I know what I am,” Claude cut in. “But we’re not in Almyra, so right now...I’m just another person on the road, traveling with you. But, I  _ will _ command you to share the bed with me, if that will make you feel better about doing so.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment before Lorenz sighed. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Claude said. “Now, I’m also starving. Where is a good place to eat?”

Lorenz retrieved his coin purse and shortsword from his bags, adding both to his belt as he said, “There are a few good taverns around. The Golden Keg is my favorite here. We can do some shopping on the way over and have our purchases delivered here so we needn’t carry everything.”

“That’s a  _ thing _ ?” Claude asked as he found his own money and tucked it into his sash, hiding it quickly and capably. 

“It’s a relatively new service, but, yes,” Lorenz said. “It usually gives children the opportunity to make some money on the side to assist their families.”

Claude hummed and followed Lorenz out the door, locking their room behind them. Lorenz recognized a few minor nobles as they made their way down the halls, and was brought up short for numerous conversations ranging from tax rates and trade routes to rumors about a  _ treaty _ with  _ Almyra _ . It took Lorenz a half hour longer than he wanted to finally escape the inn, and somehow, in spite of the press and cacophony of the external streets, it was somehow less claustrophobic than being in the inn an accosted by every other person who wanted to bend Lorenz’s ear for one reason or another.

Claude looked  _ far _ too amused.

“It’s nice to not be the recognizable one,” Claude said, giving Lorenz an impish grin when Lorenz glared at him. “So, what’s on the shopping list?”

The two men leisurely wandered through the market district and the open-air bazaar, merchants and performers hawking their wares under the watchful eyes of the city guard. The next town was two days away from Riverton, so they bought enough food and drink to last them, providing the delivery boy with the address of the inn, their room number, and Lorenz’s name; naturally, word of Count Gloucester’s arrival spread like wildfire through the shops and district, and pretty soon it was almost impossible to take two steps without someone wanting  _ something _ from Lorenz, primarily either his time or coin.

By the time they had more-or-less waded their way through to the Golden Keg, Lorenz was yearning for the open road in spite of his sore his back was--out in the open, he didn’t have procedures he could run people through to dissuade them from coming forward with stupid questions. The hostess clearly took pity on Lorenz (and a  _ very _ bemused Claude) and showed them to a private booth before bullying the people who trailed in after them out. The  _ Count _ had a reservation--did they? If not they could piss off.

Admittedly, Lorenz had no such thing, but didn’t mind someone lying on his behalf.

“Do you deal with that every time you visit?” Claude asked as they settled into their seats across from each other. 

“No,” Lorenz sighed. “My interactions with the townsfolk are usually much more curated and controlled. I usually give Riverton advance warning so they can collect complaints, suggestions, and whatnot ahead of time for me to review upon arrival. I will then hold a...kind of town hall and address as much as is feasible before taking the rest home to Gloucester territory and tending to it there.”

“And anyone can submit their requests or complaints?”

“Of course,” Lorenz said. “That is not to say that I manage to attend to each and some end up slipping through the cracks out of time constraints, but I do my best to manage the former Alliance lands well enough that the Professor can focus on more important matters.”

“And in between running the Alliance, you also brokered peace with different foreign countries.”

“Well,  _ someone _ had to, and I was the best option,” Lorenz said. 

“My pardons, Count Gloucester, m’lord,” the hostess said as she came up alongside their table. “People can be so uncivilized sometimes. We’ll make sure you have a quiet meal, since it seems like you’ve been on the road and through the wringer of the marketplace populace.”

Claude smiled and said, “You’re too kind.”

The hostess waved her hand dismissively. “It’s the least I can do. Since Count Gloucester started coming here, business has never been better, so I owe some of my success to your patronage. Now, for today’s specials--”

After rattling off the daily menu, Lorenz and Claude placed their order; however, before she left, the hostess looked at Claude and said, “And who is our Count’s guest, if I may be so bold?”

To answer truthfully was out of the question, so it was a matter of how much of a lie he needed to tell. Thankfully, Claude answered for him.

“I’m Khalid,” Claude said. “I’m guessing you’ve heard rumors about a treaty being signed with Almyra?”

The hostess nodded, intriguing and the knowledge of  _ gossip _ dawning in her eyes. 

“I’m traveling with Count Gloucester to meet with the leader of the United Nation of Fodlan. He was gracious enough to offer to show me some of Fodlan along the way.”

“And you came here, of all places?” she asked. “I’m--we’re all honored! We’ll make sure to give you a true taste of Fodlanese cuisine, then.”

With that, she bustled off, disappearing down a hall, most likely to the kitchen.

“Nicely done,” Lorenz said, impressed in spite of himself.

“And none of it was a lie, so I don’t have to keep my facts straight,” Claude said, shooting Lorenz a quick, lop-sided smile. “Although I’m pretty sure we’re only going to have more attention on the way back to the Dancing Rose.”

The Golden Keg outdid itself when it came to the quality of the food, although any  _ privacy _ provided to Claude and Lorenz was a flimsy illusion at best. Both of them could hear the servers and patrons gossiping about how  _ civilized _ the Almyran noble was, how impeccable his Fodlanese was; he was so handsome--such beautiful green eyes!--and his darker skin tone just made him alluring and exotic. It was almost impossible to believe that he  _ was _ Almyran, since everyone knew that they had the table manners of beasts and were horribly unkempt, among other things.

“I feel like I should apologize for their rudeness,” Lorenz murmured. “And my own, really, since I’m sure that such things had passed my lips when we were in school together and discussing noteworthy battles surrounding Fodlan’s Locket.”

“Look, Almyrans think that you all are cowards, thieves, fools, and weaklings,” Claude said equally softly. “In truth, I’m genuinely worried about what it will be like traveling through Almyra with you. Your looks are very distinctive.”

“Perhaps my good looks and charm will dazzle the other Almyrans enough to prevent any issues from cropping up.”

Claude laughed quietly at that and shook his head. “Oh, if only we could be that lucky. There are stories of...something like demons, I suppose, with milk-pale skin and fantastically-colored glowing eyes, who are responsible for all kinds of misfortune and mischief. I’m pretty sure you’re going to run up against  _ that.” _

Lorenz scoffed. “How could this perfection be mistaken for evil?”

Claude snorted. “I swear, before I came to Fodlan I couldn’t fathom that people could have  _ natural _ hair colors like purple or pink or bright blue. It was a bit of a shock, meeting you and Marianne and Hilda. I was honestly surprised to discover that Caspar  _ didn’t _ have a Crest, given his coloration.”

“Just because the Crest didn’t manifest doesn’t mean it is nonexistent in his blood,” Lorenz said. “If he chose to have children--which he won’t, being  _ involved _ with Lindhart as he is--there is every possibility that they may have a Crest. It skips generations sometimes. For example, I inherited the Crest of Gloucester from my father, but  _ also _ am a carrier for the Crest of Macuil from my mother, so a child of mine could have the Crest of Gloucester, the Crest of Macuil, or neither.”

“Fodlanese blood is strange,” Claude murmured.

“Says the man who is half-Fodlanese.”

By the time they had finally been served dessert--against Lorenz’s wishes, because Claude  _ had _ to have the full experience as an Almyran dignitary--some of the novelty surrounding Claude had faded, and the tavern’s more typical clientele had filtered in, along with a group of bardic hopefuls who were given the stage after a rather impressive debate over the gustatory merits of music. 

“How are we going to pay for all the food they fed us?” Claude asked after polishing off the dessert. 

“I am not particularly worried,” Lorenz said. “I don’t think they’ll overcharge, considering they wanted to  _ impress _ .”

“We can hope, I suppose,” Claude said, not appearing convinced.

Lorenz was mildly gratified to discover that they were charged what would normally be asked for the dishes, and while it did leave his coin purse significantly lighter, at least Claude gave the people something  _ good _ to say about Almyrans, which might start to undo all the rumor and stereotypes. It wouldn’t be immediate, and it might not even be  _ lasting _ , but it was a start.

The streets had calmed down significantly with the fall of dusk, many vendors having packed up and day-visitors headed home, leaving only local merchants, guards, and residents walking the town. The darkness gave them a  _ little _ more anonymity, which Lorenz was grateful for--he had had enough of people. What he  _ wasn’t _ grateful for was that they had been so delayed that the bathhouse had closed for the day. 

“Don’t sulk,” Claude semi-chided. “We’ll take a bath either first thing tomorrow or find a nice stream somewhere along the road to Garreg Mach. I’m feeling a bit ripe myself, so I’d appreciate it, too. Unless you think the inn would provide us with a bath?”

Lorenz shook his head slightly. “It’s too late for that--it would put undue strain on whomever they have working, and I don’t want that.”

Lorenz didn’t know what to make of the long, considering look Claude treated him to as they found their way back to the inn. The manic activity of the day had died down substantially, although the innkeeper was still working away at his books behind the desk.

“Mortimer,” Lorenz called out, and the man looked up sharply before giving them both an obsequious smile. 

“My lords! Your packages are safely stored in our basement for pick-up tomorrow and your horses have been well-cared for--that stallion of yours is always a treat, Count Gloucester. Did you hold a town hall?”

Lorenz shook his head. “We are merely passing through, but if anyone has delivered letters to you, please include them with our supplies and I will go over them later.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said and nodded before gesturing for Claude to follow back to the room.

Lorenz was  _ not _ expecting both he and Claude to voice relieved sighs in unison, and Claude laughed at their joint reaction while Lorenz was merely perplexed.

“You seem exhausted, but I thought you loved attention,” Claude said.

Lorenz shook his head slowly. “I don’t mind it, but I can only tolerate so much of it for so long before I become...overwhelmed...and need peace.”

“Huh. Mental note made.”

“...why?”

“Well, I’ll have to introduce you to the Almyran ‘nobility’ in stages, then,” Claude said as he stretched and began to strip out of his outer layers. “Can’t have you becoming  _ overwhelmed, _ and there will be a lot of new names, faces, and titles to memorize, since almost every tribe has different titles for the same damn hierarchy.”

Lorenz  _ twitched  _ when Claude just dumped his jacket on the floor, and compulsively picked it up, folded it, and put it on the table in the room. “Don’t just drop your clothes on the floor, it’s slovenly.”

“I was going to pick it up later,” Claude said. “But thank you for taking care of it for me.”

Lorenz shook his head in mild disbelief. “Honestly, this is a  _ cleanliness _ thing, not even a  _ noble _ thing.”

“Doesn’t House Gloucester have servants?”

“Unless my clothes were properly folded and in the correct hamper, they wouldn’t get washed,” Lorenz said as he rifled through his bags until he found his armor-care kit and doffed his armor before setting about making sure it was thoroughly cleaned and well-maintained. He wasn’t as religious about cleaning his armor as, say, Sylvain or Caspar needed to be about theirs, but he did his best to ensure it was properly cared for. The gaping hole left by the crossbow bolt  _ still _ pained Lorenz on a spiritual level as he ran his finger along the jagged ridge. 

“Well, I’m gonna pass out,” Claude said, drawing Lorenz's attention to him. The man was checking the latches and security of the windows, hiding small bells near where the windows would slide to open, then double-checking the lock on the door.

“You fear someone will try to enter?” Lorenz asked. “Isn’t that a little paranoid?”

“Paranoia born from experience,” Claude said after finishing tying a ball of bells around the door handle. “People have tried to assassinate myself, my mom,  _ and _ my dad while we were out traveling more than once. And even if this does seem excessive, isn’t it better to be safe?”

“True,” Lorenz reluctantly agreed. “But, Mortimer employs guards of his own and I would not come here if I didn’t feel safe. If you want, we can still establish a watch schedule.”

Claude shook his head. “Nah, if you think we’re safe, I trust you, and nothing should be able to get in without one or both of us noticing. And remember, we’re  _ sharing _ the bed.”

“Yes, Claude, I know,” Lorenz said. “Doesn’t leather armor need to be cared for as well?”

“I did it this morning while on watch,” Claude said and gracelessly flopped down on the bed. “Don’t stay up too late, you look exhausted. You really did stay up extra long just so I could get some sleep in this morning. Why?”

“You weren’t waking up in spite of my best efforts,” Lorenz said. “I didn’t  _ allow _ you to sleep, it was just impossible to wake you.”

Claude hummed, then yawned wide enough that Lorenz wanted to yawn in sympathy. He rolled and pulled back the sheets before patting the mattress next to him. “C’mon. You really do look tired.”

A strange trill of excitement wormed its way through Lorenz, and a  _ large _ part of him nagged at him to ask Claude if he could hold the man again, but Lorenz forcibly dispelled that notion. It wasn’t right and proper to ask that, so he wouldn’t.

“I’m almost done.”

“The armor is going nowhere,” Claude insisted. “You need the rest, or else you would have noticed you’ve cleaned the same place at least three times now.”

Lorenz wasn’t sure if Claude was lying or not,but chose to believe him, since he  _ was _ rather sleepy, and the bed was inviting--not because of its current co-inhabitant, but just because he was looking forward to sleeping on something softer than the ground. Lorenz packed away his supplies, then finished undressing to his protective undergarments before stretching out on the part of the bed that Claude had indicated. 

It felt  _ heavenly _ to be lying on something other than stone, and he wasn’t quite able to stop the hum of pleasure that escaped him. Claude chuckled softly and said, “You’re not wrong. This is  _ nice _ .”

Claude shifted beside him and pulled the blankets over them both before rolling onto his side and facing away from Lorenz. Lorenz felt...strangely bereft at such a simple motion that he knew was most likely meant to give Lorenz some privacy. At the same time, though, memories of how nicely Claude had fit in his arms, how pleasant it had been to have the man’s body against his own, how  _ strong _ and  _ capable _ he had felt were tantalizing, and Lorenz barely caught himself before he touched Claude’s shoulder, the question of whether or not it would be okay to hold Claude trapped behind closed lips.

“Good night,” Lorenz murmured instead and turned so his back was facing Claude.

Claude responded with the same phrase in Almyran, and Lorenz pointedly closed his eyes, slowly drifting into unconsciousness, cradled by the soft mattress and Claude’s scent.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It warms my heart that people enjoy my writing. Thank you as always for your patronage and any kudos or comments you choose to leave.
> 
> Additionally, FE:3H still does not belong to me.

Lorenz woke with what almost felt like a fever, but a bewildered moment later, he realized that he was so hot because Claude was more-or-less clinging to him, the other man’s hair tickling the bottom of his chin as his even breaths ghosted across a patch of exposed skin on his (Lorenz’s) chest.

The next thing Lorenz noticed--the one that had his heartbeat skyrocket out of sheer  _ embarrassment _ and dread--was that he was  _ aroused _ , and, to make matters worse, they were close enough that he could feel that Claude was sporting an erection as well.

_ Why? _ Lorenz wondered, his thoughts spiraling frantically around each other.  _ Claude should not be affecting me like this. Then again, I suppose that it doesn’t help that the last time someone held me like this was-- _

When Lorenz couldn’t conjure up a memory of a time when someone held him so tightly, somehow both possessive and seeking security, it dawned on him just how rare it was for someone to  _ touch _ him. When he was a child, his parents had touched him only to punish him, and the family physician’s touch was clinical and impersonal. Shows of physical intimacy had been looked down upon in his household, and were the subject of ruthless gossip and critique whenever they had guests over who  _ did _ seek out physical contact with their family members and loved ones. Superficially intimate touch came during the balls Lorenz had attended, when he had danced with various women, but that felt like grasping at straws when it came to actual human contact. That him holding Claude in the cave was the most extensive physical contact he had had in his life felt  _ wrong _ , even if it was the truth.

He had been accused of being distant and standoffish by more than one woman he had attempted to court, but  _ he _ had thought he was being polite, a perfect noble gentleman, so figured that they had absorbed some silly nonsense from romance novels. It took that moment, with Claude’s body flush to his, their breathing in sync, for him to realize what he had been missing, how it filled a hole he hadn’t known he’d possessed. 

“Why’s your heart beating so fast?” Claude mumbled sleepily, his hands actually tightening on the back of Lorenz’s shirt, keeping him in place.

“I was...startled to wake in this position,” Lorenz said, his voice low and even as he struggled to keep the overwhelming emotions under control. He didn’t  _ want _ Claude to let go, even if it wasn’t  _ right _ given their...situation.

Claude voiced a confused grunt and actually snuggled in  _ closer _ before freezing, finally seeming to  _ realize _ what Lorenz meant by  _ this position _ ; the jolt of pleasure that raced up Lorenz’s spine as Claude’s body shifted against his erection made Lorenz bite back a gasp, even if he couldn’t fully suppress a shiver. 

Claude muttered an Almyran swear-phrase into Lorenz’s chest before speaking up in Fodlanese: “We both let go at the count of three, okay? I’ll back away, since I have more space. I was always accused of being a bed-hog, and you’re barely still on the mattress.”

Lorenz hadn’t noticed  _ that _ , but he had had multiple things to be distracted by. 

“Very well,” Lorenz agreed. “Ready?”

“Yeah. One, two...three.”

A potent sense of  _ loss _ immediately pounced on Lorenz as he let go and Claude rolled away, first onto his side and then up into sitting, his back facing Lorenz. 

“Do you, uh, want me to step out for a second?” Claude asked. “So you can, y’know, take care of yourself?”

Lorenz  _ stared _ at Claude’s back, then cleared his throat and said, “I’d rather we just get on with the day. I was...my parents often entered my room without warning, or had servants check in on me, just to make sure I wasn’t doing what you suggest. I’m capable of taming this, of controlling myself.” Just the memory of the shame and fear was enough to replace the aching need with dread, quickly chasing away the erection. “Do you need me to…?”

“Sheesh,  _ straight-laced noble _ indeed,” Claude murmured and ran his fingers through his hair, the muscles of his shoulders bunching and rippling under the fine, thin fabric of Claude’s undershirt, momentarily mesmerizing. “That isn’t how  _ all _ nobles raise their children, you know.”

“My father has always been concerned for the good of our House and territory above all else,” Lorenz said and pushed himself up sitting, turning his back to Claude and placing his feet on the floor, the wood rough under his soles. “I was pushed harder than most of my peers, held to a more exacting standard because I was expected to  _ lead _ one day. Perhaps he was stricter than most, but--”

“No, Lorenz, I think  _ strict _ is being too generous,” Claude said, and Lorenz tensed as he felt Claude’s hand rest on his shoulder. Claude withdrew his hand quickly at Lorenz’s flinch. “I...and, don’t worry, it’s annoying, but I’ll be fine. We  _ should _ get going, anyway. Still got a ways until we reach Garreg Mach.” Loenz felt the bed dip and Claude got to his feet with a muffled groan and a few  _ pops _ as he stretched.

“Indeed,” Lorenz agreed and pushed himself standing, his earlier  _ condition _ dying away. “Two days to Goldenfields, then another day and a half or so after that. What maps of Almyra that I have seen make the country appear quite large. Is that true?”

Claude unfurled the clothing that Lorenz had compulsively folded and examined it as he said, “Almyra  _ is ‘ _ quite large’ and constantly changing. It’s a challenge to rule, but at least I’m never bored, right?”

“I suppose,” Lorenz replied, mildly incredulous. He liked  _ order _ , so anything constantly in flux annoyed him unduly. 

The two dressed in silence, and while Claude was taking down all his bells, there was a brisk, polite knock at the door. Claude tensed, but Lorenz waved at him to stand down--if there was anything dangerous on the other side, he would take care of it, but he was pretty sure it was breakfast. Mortimer knew he woke early  _ and _ how he took his tea.

After unlocking the door, Lorenz found that a maid was on the other side, pushing a small trolley with an array of breakfast foods and an extra-large teapot that smelled of the local, strong black tea. She entered the room and quickly set up everything on the table in the room, fine plates and cups seeming to appear out of thin air. In no time, breakfast was ready for them.

“Please ring if you need anything else,” the maid said with a curtsy before backing away and closing the door behind her.

“I’m going to be paranoid and check for poisons, if you don’t mind,” Claude said and walked over. He fiddled with his earring, and Lorenz’s eyes narrowed as he saw the jewelry almost  _ glow _ . Claude ran his hands over all the food and tea, a look of absent concentration on his face, and he nodded only once everything had been ‘examined.’ “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Is that another precaution born of assassination attempts?” Lorenz asked as he poured some tea for himself and Claude.

“It is,” Claude confirmed and sat down. “I don’t remember you placing an order for breakfast yesterday.”

“I stay at this inn every time I visit Riverton,” Lorenz said. “Mortimer knows my habits and preferences by now.”

“He’s good at his job.”

“That he is.”

There was a brief uncomfortable silence before Claude sighed and said, “I’m sorry, I should’ve  _ warned _ you that I’m a cuddler. It just...slipped my mind.”

Lorenz shook his head slowly to give himself time to formulate a response, as he didn’t expect the spike of  _ jealousy _ at the thought that Claude had shared a bed with someone else. It was ridiculous to feel so. 

_ He may have slept alongside his parents when he was a child, _ Lorenz thought.  _ He seems to have a more...intimate and comfortable relationship with them than I do my own. _

“I should have guessed after how you held onto me when we were resting in the cave after being caught unawares by the rainstorm,” Lorenz said after taking a sip of tea. “I thought it was purely for warmth, however.”

“It partly was for warmth, but also partly because I just...like touch,” Claude said. “I’ll tell you an embarrassing secret as an apology for the awkwardness. Until I came to Fodlan to attend the Officer’s Academy, I used to sleep with a teddy bear my mom made for me when I was two. He had the very original name of Teddy. Admittedly, Mom also wove a protection spell into his creation, so for a long time he also was a first line of defense for me when I slept. I guess I just got used to holding something when asleep, and it’s an unconscious comfort knowing something or someone else is with me.”

It was strangely easy to picture what Claude described, and Lorenz couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “Well, then. I suppose that we’ll just have to keep sharing a bed whenever we stay at an inn, won’t we?”

“What? We will?” Claude said, clearly caught off-guard.

Lorenz nodded. “Naturally. It’s easier to protect you the closer you are to me,” Lorenz said. “Imagine if an assassin or spy managed to get into your room and I was a few rooms down; I would have failed in my duty, and I refuse to fail in something as vital as protecting visiting royalty. Your bells might not provide all the warning you’d need.”

“So, you’re  _ okay _ with how we woke up today?” Claude asked slowly.

“It doesn’t  _ mean _ anything,” Lorenz said. “So, while it might be uncomfortable, there is no need to pay it any mind.”

Claude took a deep breath to respond, then sighed instead. “Right. Of course. It doesn’t  _ mean anything _ . So...if your parents constantly checked in on you to make sure you didn’t touch yourself, does that mean you’re a virgin?”

“Claude! Rude!”

“What? I’m just curious, you don’t  _ have _ to answer the question,” Claude said. 

“I’ve yet to meet a woman who meets my standards,” Lorenz said. “And anyway, I wouldn’t want to run the chance of fathering a bastard. That would be shameful and irresponsible of me. I assume that you  _ have _ had sex?”

Claude shrugged dismissively. “I’ve made love a few times, but none of them ever really had the kind of  _ spark _ I’m looking for. Wait until you see how my mom and dad look at each other. Sometimes it’s like they forget anyone else is in the room with them--I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so in love before. I  _ want _ that in my life, and I figure if they’ve managed to find it against all odds, I can, too.”

“Well, if you’re hoping to find it amongst our classmates, you’re out of luck.”

“Oh?”

“Everyone except you and I are paired up in one form or another,” Lorenz said. 

“Really? I remember you mentioning something about Caspar and Lindhardt, but...everyone?” Claude said. “Well, we can’t be the only two left single. Clearly this means we should get married to each other.”

“Very funny, Claude.”

Claude’s lop-sided grin didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m guessing you’re privy to all the gossip?” Claude asked as he tore a croissant into smaller pieces before eating said pieces.

“It’s not  _ gossip _ , it’s being  _ well-informed _ .”

“Sure thing. I’m kinda upset I wasn’t able to make it to any of the weddings. Did you attend any?”

“Some I was invited to, others were a more private affair,” Lorenz said. “I attended the joint wedding of Felix, Sylvain, and Annette; Manuela and Hanneman’s ceremony; and Petra and Dorothea’s celebration. I only found out about other marriages via correspondence and sent a wedding gift after the fact.”

“Who ended up with Leonie?” Claude asked.

“Ignatz.”

“No way!”

“Bernadetta and Raphael are wife and husband.”

“...that’s actually really adorable.”

“For once, I completely agree with you.”

Lorenz was relieved to talk about something other than his own sexual history--or, rather, lack thereof--and Claude’s commentary on his various wedding stories were oddly charming. It was easier to speak of other people’s marriages than to dwell on how hard it was proving to secure his own. Lorenz only ceased his stories when they ran out of tea.

“I suppose we should get going,” Lorenz said, looking mournfully at the empty pot of tea.

“I swear, you must have tea for blood, given how much you drink,” Claude chuckled. “But, yeah, we should get moving. Time waits for no one.”

Lorenz rang the bell and gathered his belongings while waiting for the maid to return; a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door, which revealed the same maid that had brought them their breakfast. Lorenz placed five silver on the table, then left as she was cleaning up, Claude a step behind.

Mortimer looked as awake as he ever was, and treated the two of them to a beaming smile. “Did breakfast meet expectations?”

“As it always does,” Lorenz responded warmly. “You said our packages would be ready for our departure?”

“Of course! I’ll have them packed and your horses brought to you.”

“Thank you. May your business continue to be good.”

“Much obliged,” Mortimer replied as Lorenz and Claude left for the stables. 

Regardless of the relatively early hour, the stables were still a hub of activity, and after a short wait, Shadow and Spot, along with expertly packed bags with their new supplies, were brought out to them. Lorenz parted with two more silver, then mounted Shadow, who danced eagerly beneath him. Lorenz stroked his neck and murmured an attempt to calm the stallion, but his ears were pricked up and forward, ready for adventure.

_ No calming him when he gets in this mood, _ Lorenz thought with an affectionate sigh, and the two men started off towards Garreg Mach once more.

However, Lorenz had an intermediary stop in mind--he still very badly wanted a bath, and there was a natural pool about half a day’s ride away from Riverton, just far enough from all points of civilization to be safe and private.

“Could you review all the vocabulary I should know up to now?” Lorenz asked, drawing Claude out of silent musings, his eyes refocusing as he came back to reality. 

“Sure,” Claude agreed.”Let’s see…”

They moved on from vocabulary to simple sentences as the morning wore on, Claude a surprisingly patient and gentle teacher. Before Lorenz entered Fhirdiad or Garreg Mach, his mother had been his primary instructor, and she was unforgiving of even the smallest mistakes, so Claude’s gentle corrections and teasing over any errors was unfamiliar and  _ weird _ . 

“Where are we going?” Claude asked when Lorenz turned off the main road. “You’re guiding Shadow like you have a particular place in mind.”

“You’ll see,” Lorenz said. “While it is a bit of a detour, it is worthwhile, I promise.”

Claude quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing, merely following along behind Lorenz. The silence was  _ comfortable _ as they worked their way through the woods, and Lorenz’s shoulders slowly dropped. After spending time among the people of Riverton, he was very acutely reminded of what he would be leaving behind if he became the Ambassador to Almyra. 

_ I have to speak to Marianne when we arrive at Garreg Mach, _ Lorenz thought, rubbing his temples.  _ If she doesn’t agree to take on management, who  _ could _ I ask? Certainly not Hilda. Perhaps Lysithea? I know she said she doesn’t  _ want _ to be a noble, but she is wickedly intelligent and practical, so I think she would do well. Don’t borrow trouble, Lorenz. You have plenty on your hands as it is. Speaking of… _

“You know where we’re going, right?” Lorenz murmured to Shadow, who flicked an ear at him--he did. So, Lorenz turned in his saddle and rifled through one of the saddle-bags, coming out with a rather substantial stack of letters.

“Working while traveling? Isn’t that a little much?” Claude asked, guessing what the stack was.

“I trust Shadow with my life, and he knows where we’re headed,” Lorenz said and opened the first envelope. “And I’d rather be able to use some as fuel for a fire.”

Claude actually chuckled at that.

An hour or so after midday, they arrived at Lorenz’s ‘secret’ bathing spot. Claude whistled, clearly impressed by the scenery. “Wow, this place is  _ gorgeous _ . How did you find it?”

Lorenz felt inordinately pleased with himself for no discernible reason. The goddess has fashioned the forested clearing, the sparkling waterfall and pool, the gently babbling stream, not him, but seeing Claude regard it with something like  _ wonder _ was gratifying.

“I had...partly suspected that I wouldn’t be able to get in a bath in town,” Lorenz said as Shadow moved over to a large rock near the shore of the pool. “I’m usually accosted long past closing time for the bathhouse even when traveling alone, and found this place when I was out riding trying to clear my head after an exhausting town hall. More often than not,  _ this _ is where I bathe when visiting this area.”

“The water is probably really cold, right?”

“It is bracing,” Lorenz said diplomatically. “But, the water is constantly circulating, deeper than you’d anticipate, and clean. This isn’t far from the originating spring--it’s just a little bit upstream of the waterfall, and you can see where the pool narrows to a stream that flows deeper into these woods.”

Claude nodded as he dismounted and took off Spot’s saddle. “Why don’t I start a fire here? We can have lunch and dry off at the same time.”

“A sound scheme, for once.”

Claude snorted and failed at suppressing a smile.

Lorenz dismounted and removed Shadow’s gear and rubbed him down, murmuring compliments the entire time, which made Shadow toss his head and playfully headbutt Lorenz once he was done. Lorenz pressed a gentle kiss to the stallion’s forehead, then turned to catch Claude looking almost  _ wistful _ .

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, just missing Tempest,” he said. “My wyvern. He’s just as much of a ham. I know he’s being well cared for, but...”

“You’ll have to more formally introduce us,” Lorenz said. “Although I don’t recall your wyvern liking me overmuch.”

“Don’t worry, he was just  _ jealous _ ,” Claude said, waving off the statement.

“Jealous?” Lorenz repeated. There was a brief hitch in Claude’s movements as he stoked the fire he had built using more than a few letters as kindling, and Lorenz would have  _ sworn _ the man’s face was, at least temporarily, a shade darker than usual.

“Well, I spent plenty of time with you and the others, and he prefers to have me all to himself,” Claude said.

Lorenz smiled faintly at that. “I’ll make sure to not stand in between him and his master when he returns to you.”

“He’ll appreciate it, I’m sure,” Claude drawled and stood, brushing some dirt off his knees. 

Lorenz rifled through his bags, then came away with a wash-cloth, a bottle of hair-cleaning oil, and a bar of soap. He walked over to the pool’s edge and set them on a convenient rock before stripping. He dipped his toe in the water and winced at how  _ cold _ it was; however, it was the best and only option, so he’d survive. 

He wasn’t expecting to get pushed in.

The pool sloped down, so he stumbled along the rocky bottom before his toe caught on something and he fell face-first into the deeper part. He came back up, sputtering and shivering, and scowled at a grinning Claude on the shoreline. Claude gave him a brazen wink, then quickly stripped himself before simply  _ jumping  _ in, swamping Lorenz with a small wave.

Claude surfaced, shivering, but looked pleased with himself anyway.

“You’re a dick,” Lorenz stated.

“The only way to deal with cold water is to just jump in and start getting used to it,” Claude said and reached out to push some of Lorenz’s hair out of his eyes. “What lakes exist in Almyra are glacier-fed, so are  _ frigid _ . This is actually warmer than most of what i’m used to at home.”

Lorenz shoved Claude in retribution, and the man stumbled back a few steps, a wicked gleam entering his eyes.

_ Oh no, _ Lorenz thought, distantly certain that his action was taken as a  _ challenge _ and not as a request to  _ stop _ . 

Lorenz was fairly certain that, in his 30 or so years of living, he had never actually  _ roughhoused _ with anyone because  _ proper nobles _ didn’t do that kind of thing, so the splashing and dunking contest Claude engaged him in in spite of his (Lorenz’s) protests was oddly exhilarating and freeing; anyway, he couldn’t just  _ let _ Claude win. He didn’t mind the cold, or Claude’s touch, or that he got water up his nose more than once; he felt light and warm and  _ genuinely _ laughed for the first time in ages. That his reactions seemed to gratify and please Claude only made him (Lorenz) feel even better about... _ everything _ , really, which was bizarre.

They were both breathless and shivering by the time they called a tie, even if Lorenz had  _ clearly  _ won , and Lorenz chuckled to himself as he waded over to where he had left his personal supplies.

“Let me help,” Claude said when Lorenz returned to deeper water. 

“Claude, I am perfectly capable of washing myself,” Lorenz protested, but Claude had already stolen the bottle of hair-oil from his hands and was looking it over. 

“I know you are, but I want to do it for you,” Claude said. “You’ve done such a good job protecting me and all, I feel like I can return the favor at least in some small way.”

“Claude--”

“Of  _ course _ it’s rose scented,” Claude murmured upon opening the bottle. “Could you kneel in slightly shallower water? It’ll be easier to work on your hair that way.” 

Lorenz grumbled something about being  _ ordered around _ , but did as asked, his knees settling into the finer sand. He felt the water move behind him and Claude rested a hand on his shoulder to let Lorenz know where he was. 

Claude poured some oil in his palm and used the non-oiled hand to offer the bottle to Lorenz. “Hold this, please?”

Lorenz took it back, and tensed when he felt a slight tug on his scalp; however, Claude’s fingers were gentle as they began to work the cleaning oil into his hair. 

“Your hair is really soft,” Claude observed.

“I take care of myself and my appearance,” Lorenz replied.

“That you do.”

Lorenz would exceedingly grudgingly admit to there being a sensual pleasure in having someone else wash his hair for him, his eyes closing out of more than just a need to keep any run-off out of his eyes. Claude’s fingers were strong and deft, easily pulling through and massaging in the product before rinsing it out with surprising care and gentleness, using one hand to keep the water from falling in Lorenz’s eyes or ears while pouring the water with the other. It was...almost relaxing.

_ When was the last time someone did this for me?  _ Lorenz wondered. _ Perhaps when I caught some kind of winter illness and a servant took care of me so my parents wouldnt get sick? Goddess, I must have been seven or so. Should I be liking this so much, or is it inappropriate? Does it even matter? It's just us here, after all... _

He hadn’t thought he’d enjoy Claude’s physical presence as much as he did, but there was something intensely comforting about it. He felt...safe. He almost mourned the loss of Claude’s hands, but startled when he felt Claude swipe an apparently-soapy washcloth across his upper back.

“You can stop,” Lorenz said, and looked up and over his shoulder.

“Humor me. It’s not like you can reach back here anyway,” Claude said dismissively as he continued to wash Lorenz’s back. “Can I ask an uncomfortable question?”

“I was...eleven, I believe, perhaps a little younger,” Lorenz said, guessing what the question was based on how Claude’s fingers were slowly following a few lines across his back. “I was practicing my horsemanship when I lost control. The horse went on a tour of my family’s grounds, including the rose bushes, before he threw me. I landed badly, and that’s where those scars come from. Cotton doesn’t serve well as armor.”

“It all looks a little too clean to be from that kind of injury.”

“I heal well.”

It was an easier story to tell than the truth, which Lorenz would take to his grave, if he had any say in the matter.

“If you insist on washing me, then I have to do so in return,” Lorenz said and looked over his shoulder again, since Claude’s fingers were still pensively running along one of the scars. 

“Lorenz--”

“Claude.”

Claude sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

“I hope you don’t mind smelling like me for a while,” Lorenz said. “Unless you brought your own supplies?”

Claude shook his head slightly, tiny water droplets falling off his hair. “Nope, I tend to use what is available at bath houses or the inns I stay at if I’m not in the palace.”

“What scents do you favor?” Lorenz asked, curious in spite of himself.

“I like woodsy ones, I guess,” Claude said after a moment’s consideration. “That and resin-scents. Sandalwood, amber, frankincense, that kind of thing.”

“Well, you will have to suffer through floral for a few days until we get to Garreg Mach. They have exceedingly neutral scents there, so as to not avoid anyone’s sensibilities.”

“Oh, yeah, we all knew when you were using the baths and sauna,” Claude said, a laugh lacing his voice. “There. All done.”

Lorenz didn’t bother to question  _ why _ Claude sounded disappointed, and stood before gesturing for Claude to take up the spot he had vacated. Claude did so after a moment’s hesitation, which Lorenz interpreted as not wanting to be vulnerable due to some trauma in his past. Lorenz shook his head as he poured some of the cleaning oil into his palm, then handed the bottle off to Claude before starting to work at Claude’s scalp.

It was strange, how simply touching Claude, watching him, hearing quiet, involuntary happy sounds as he (Lorenz) washed his (Claude’s) hair made Lorenz feel...warm. It felt  _ right _ to be touching Claude, and the man’s body seemed to seek out Lorenz’s touch when he pulled too far away and only relaxed once Lorenz’s fingers were on him again. Lorenz recognized scars from battle wounds and a childhood of peril, and while the tattoo that spread across Claude’s right shoulder was endlessly fascinating, Lorenz bit his tongue--it probably had some kind of socio-cultural and personal significance, and Lorenz wasn’t one to pry. Claude’s head-hair was luxuriously thick, even if it did seem a little greasy from days on the road and not being properly cleaned, and no small part of Lorenz was envious. He had to  _ work _ to make his hair have any kind of volume, but Claude’s was just naturally so.

“You have such nice hair, it isn’t fair,” Lorenz muttered. He had hoped he had been quiet enough that Claude hadn’t heard, but the low, pleased chuckle told Lorenz he hadn’t been quiet enough. 

“I get it from my dad’s side,” Claude said. “They blame me being part Fodlanese for my inability to grow any kind of  _ respectable _ beard.”

“I can’t imagine you with more of a beard,” Lorenz said. “Why on earth would you want to hide your face like that?”

On a whim, Lorenz put pressure underneath Claude’s chin, encouraging him to tilt his head back and look at Lorenz. There was a strange, breathless moment as Claude looked up at him, their eyes catching. Claude’s were, for some reason, slightly darker and there was the strangest  _ allure _ to his gaze, a secret message hidden in the depths that Lorenz could  _ almost _ comprehend. He caught himself leaning forward, wanting to  _ know _ what that message was, and jerked back away, a blush inexplicably heating his face. Lorenz cleared his throat and let his hands fall away, and actually felt a little guilty at the brief flash of disappointment he saw on Claude’s face. Both reactions were nonsensical, though, so he shoved both aside.

“Apologies,” Lorenz said after an uncomfortable pause.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Claude said, and Lorenz was amused at how the tension that had crept into his shoulders disappeared when Lorenz touched him again, taking the wash cloth and beginning to work on Claude’s back and shoulders after retrieving his usual soap.

Claude had more body hair than Lorenz was expecting or used to, but it wasn’t  _ objectionable _ , merely...different. It did force him to be more careful and thorough when washing, however; Lorenz  _ almost _ chuckled at how Claude seemed to melt under his ministrations.

“I assume you do not need my help with the rest of you?” Lorenz asked and spread the washcloth over Claude’s left shoulder once he was done.

“If I said I  _ do _ need assistance, would you oblige?” Claude asked, looking over and up at Lorenz, the odd darkness in his gaze and a strange lilt to his voice that made Lorenz’s stomach feel funny.

Lorenz gave him such a deeply incredulous look that Claude shook his head and laughed, although the sound was somehow...bitter. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Claude said. “You need to finish, too, right?”

“Yes,” Lorenz affirmed. “But, you first. You have the washcloth, after all.” 

“So I do,” Claude said, a repressed sigh in his tone. 

It felt  _ weird _ to watch Claude, so Lorenz turned his attention to observing their surroundings. They were lucky that nothing had bothered them, but he supposed they were making enough noise that only other humans would investigate, and seeing two naked men bathing would probably drive those overly-curious humans away. 

Maybe. Claude had a nice body, so any voyeurs might stick around to admire him.

_ What the hell? _ Lorenz thought, bewildered with himself over the thought.  _ I mean, I suppose it’s true. We’re both highly attractive men. _

It was weirdly difficult to not look over his shoulder in an attempt to get a look at Claude. The water was crystalline clear, it wasn’t like Lorenz  _ hadn’t _ seen everything Claude had to offer already. But, the thought of someone else watching, someone else looking at Claude’s body with either ill or amorous intent rankled Lorenz for reasons he couldn’t fully explain. He was so caught in trying to unravel the strangely  _ possessive _ feeling he had around Claude that he jumped when the washcloth hit his upper back with a loud, wet  _ smack. _

“Your turn,” Claude said, a laugh in his voice as Lorenz glared at him as he retrieved the fabric. 

“Very cute, Claude,” Lorenz drawled and took the soap from Claude’s outstretched hand. 

“I know,” Claude said with a wink before he waded out of the water and towards the still-burning campfire. 

Lorenz frowned to hide his confusion, then sighed dramatically and pointedly, which may have earned him a quiet snigger. His fingers had gone pruney from spending too much time in the water, so the rest of his bathing was thorough but brisk. He hated that he’d get sand and grass stuck to his feet as he walked out, but it could be brushed or picked off once dry, so he’d survive. He was surprised to see that Claude had spread out a blanket close-ish to the fire, and the man gestured for Lorenz to take a seat next to him.

A  _ large _ part of Lorenz shied away from accepting the invitation--Claude had been too tactile, too casual, too... _ close _ , and it was disconcerting how much Lorenz found himself gravitating towards it. It felt different than just a manly friendship, it felt...more intimate than that, to allow Claude to touch him so freely.

Still, he also didn’t want his butt to get dirty and Claude had already been considerate enough to roll out his blanket for them to air-dry on, so carefully took the offered ‘seat’. 

“I’m actually a little sad I missed out on so many friends’ major life events,” Claude said after a moment of silence.

“Pardon?”

“Weddings and whatnot,” Claude semi-clarified. “It was just that...with Fodlan in good and capable hands, I had to tend to my home country, and that unfortunately isolated me from a lot of the news out of Fodlan. While it didn’t escape my notice that it was easier for my spies to infiltrate the country, they had a bad habit of reporting back on  _ only _ what I asked them to investigate. It’s been a  _ slog _ , getting people to accept my rule. It’s only recently that younger and more progressive minds have come into control of the major and influential tribes, and it’s only because I kept my dad on as an advisor that the older heads respect me  _ at all. _ ”

“Change does not come easily to most people,” Lorenz semi-agreed. “I sometimes think the only reason the nobles have accepted the Professor as the ruler of Fodlan is that, in some small part, everyone has  _ wanted _ a united nation, like it once was centuries ago. The decrease in political tensions and ease of trade likely also contributed to that, but people take comfort in the old and familiar. It was a bit of a struggle to get the former-Alliance nobility to respect  _ me _ , but...i think, oddly enough, that my dissimilarity to my father worked in my favor.”

“Permission to speak freely?”

“....granted, I suppose.”

“Your dad’s an asshole, so  _ I’m _ not surprised that the nobles would prefer working with you once they realized how different you are.”

Lorenz shook his head slowly. “He’s always governed capably, he just has a bad tendency to place the well-being of our House over the health of the nation. I’ve just come to realize that without a healthy nation, no House can thrive.”

“My statement still stands.”

“Tell me about your parents,” Lorenz said. “You’ve already met mine. Are they like you, constantly thinking and scheming?”

“Why don’t I tell you the story they’ve told me about how they met?” Claude said. “It’s...enlightening, I think.”

“Very well,” Lorenz said. “How did your parents meet?”

“Mom had been on the run from Fodlanese pursuers for a few weeks and was running low on resources and energy--apparently your father was less than pleased at her trying to escape her ‘marriage obligation.’ Dad was out hunting with a few of his friends. They both spotted the same deer at the same time, but while my father’s shot went wide, mom’s pierced its heart, instantly killing it while doing minimal damage to the hide, which she apparently planned to collect and sell. The way dad phrases it, my mom’s wild-eyed gaze ‘pierced his heart as surely as any arrow and was nearly as fatal, for I knew then that there would be no other woman for me.’”

“What a romantic turn of phrase,” Lorenz observed. 

“He used love letters to teach her how to read and write Almyran,” Claude said with an absent smile. “She was initially terrified of him, because he’s, oh, twice as tall and three times as broad as her, and unlike any Fodlanese man she had ever met. But, also unlike any Fodlanese man she had met, he made her feel  _ safe _ , and he was--how did she put it?--adorably dramatic in courting her affections. It didn’t take long for her to fall for him just as hard. Dad’s friends thought he was ensorceled by a Fodlanese witch, and actually tried to kill Mom; however, she trounced them, so she gained at least their  _ respect _ , then grudging acceptance when it was clear my parents were both mad for each other. Deep, passionate, genuine love is to be treasured, so Mom was slowly accepted by my grandparents, particularly when it became clear that she wasn’t anything like what Fodlanese women were supposedly like.”

“So, she won over her in-laws? In spite of being a ‘Fodlanese witch?’”

Claude nodded. “My grandparents loved her because she encouraged dad to be more focused. He had a lot of ambitions, but absolutely no organization. Mom whipped him into shape, and her being brought up as a potential Duchess Riegan gave her a different perspective on ruling, since she was used to the  _ Alliance _ . They thought she was witty, funny, full of Almyran fire in spite of being from Fodlan. Grams and Gramps...they helped protect me until they died.”

“Am I to guess that their deaths weren’t due to natural causes?”

Claude shook his head sadly. “No, they weren’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, Claude,” Lorenz said and cautiously touched his shoulder.

Claude gave him a slight smile. “And somehow, in spite of all the vitriol, all the danger, my parents have remained married and desperately in love for decades now. It’s almost unbelievable.”

Lorenz hummed in agreement as he pulled his hand back, unsure why he had reached out in the first place. “Thank you for telling me those stories.”

“I like bragging about my parents, now that I can freely talk about them,” Claude replied. “It was hard being out of touch with them when we were in school together and when I was leading the Alliance.”

A comfortable silence fell again, broken by the sound of horses tearing up some of the nearby grass, the cascade of the waterfall, and their slow, easy breathing. 

“I want that kind of love, y’know?” Claude said, his voice low, soft, wistful. “Think I’ll get that lucky?”

“You’re stupidly fortunate, so I wouldn’t be surprised, but I suppose there’s no guarantee,” Lorenz said with a small shrug. “The kind of love your parents apparently have is something I’m only familiar with in novels and operas--it doesn’t even sound  _ real _ to me.”

“That’s actually really sad.”

“It is what it is,” Lorenz said and ran his fingers along the weave of the blanket. “Although the way you talk about it, I think I’d like to feel that kind of love, even if only once.”

“What if I told you that you  _ could _ have it?” Claude asked. 

Lorenz looked over to Claude, a pithy answer on his lips, but he forgot what he was going to say due the expression Claude wore. The  _ secret _ was back in Claude’s gaze, something that danced just outside of Lorenz’s understanding, and it made him uncomfortable enough that he looked quickly away and back to the pool. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I doubt I’ll end up in a love-marriage. Fodlan comes first, my feelings come second.”

“That’s too bad,” Claude murmured. “But, who knows? Maybe that’ll change.”

“I suppose anything is possible,” Lorenz replied. 

“Yeah.”

Lorenz felt  _ guilty _ for the sadness in Claude’s tone.

“Why don’t you teach me the names for the parts of the body,” Lorenz suggested on a whim and as a way to break Claude’s mood. 

There was a weird pause as Claude’s face darkened ever so slightly and he said, “Sure. I’m thinking of trying out a teaching method--sometimes it’s easier to remember things if something physical was done. Both Fodlan and Almyra have the ‘head-shoulder-knees-and-toes’ song. So, I’m going to touch the appropriate part of your body and say the Almyran word. You repeat the word, translate it to Fodlanese, then touch  _ me _ and say the Almyran word. Think you can do that?”

Lorenz was mildly incredulous, but shrugged. “I suppose it’s as good a way as any to learn, and it might aid in memorization, so it is worth an attempt.”

“Exactly,” Claude replied, and Lorenz wasn’t sure if he liked Claude’s grin. 

Claude leaned over and gently pressed his fingertips to Lorenz’s foot, then said the word. Lorenz repeated the word back in Almyran, translated it, then, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out and brushed his fingers on Claude’s foot, repeating the word in Almyran.

It was surprisingly slow-going and somehow distracting, as Claude would sometimes need  _ prompting _ for the vocabulary, and a few times they discovered that Lorenz was  _ ticklish _ , to Lorenz’s personal horror.

“You are not allowed to use this knowledge against me,” Lorenz said, his face bright red as he caught and held Claude’s hand away from his torso after they discovered that too-light touches along his ribs made him dissolve into laughter.

“I won’t, I promise,” Claude said. “I doubt that you could feel the same kind of thing through layers of armor and cloth, so unless you decide to walk around shirtless and show your body off in an attempt to woo a woman with me around, you are safe.”

Lorenz rolled his eyes.

Nothing prepared him for how  _ strange _ it would be when Claude moved to describing facial structures. The same weird, breathless tension Lorenz had felt during that fleeting moment during their shared bath returned as Claude reached out and carefully traced the curve of Lorenz’s ear, saying the Almyran word while doing so; but, instead of stopping, he trailed callused fingertips lightly across Lorenz’s cheek, traced the curve of his eyebrow, followed the arch of his nose, and ever-so-gently brushed his thumbs across Lorenz’s lips. He still named each part as he ran his fingers over it, his voice and annunciation clear and even--although it was a bit hard to pay attention when Lorenz was noticing for the first time how arresting Claude’s eyes could be, how expressive, and a small part of him wondered at the promise of... _ something _ ...hidden within them. 

Claude’s touch lingered on his lips for a moment before he rested his hands on Lorenz’s shoulders. Lorenz reached out and his fingers traced the same path that Claude’s fingers had on his own face, although his voice was softer and deeper than Lorenz was used to hearing himself. Still, they were both very close, so perhaps it was simply that he didn’t feel the need for anything louder? And why was his heart beating so hard?

“Not bad,” Claude said, his own voice quieter than usual and with a strangely thrilling rougher edge to it. 

“Just _not_ _bad_?” Lorenz asked, irritation creeping in.

“You still said it with a pretty thick Fodlanese accent, but I’m sure time and practice will make that less noticeable.”

“I aim for perfection,” Lorenz said and pulled away to stand. “We should get moving again. We might have to travel a little into the night due to dawdling as long as we did.”

“It was worth the dawdle,” Claude replied and stood, stretching while he did so.

Lorenz had to fight down the strangest urge to run his hand down Claude’s side, just to see if it would make  _ him _ laugh, but reined in the impulse, instead turning to dressing himself and preparing Shadow for departure.

Lorenz had the sneaking suspicion that, should he forget everything he was attempting to learn in Almyran, he would remember the names of the body parts, if only because he couldn’t shake the memory of the looks Claude occasionally treated him to, whose meaning Lorenz  _ swore _ he knew, but which was proving frustratingly evasive.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are now in the double digits for chapter numbers. This is another novel. As expected.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments. Knowing people consume and enjoy my work and that I'm not just shouting into the void makes it all worthwhile.
> 
> As usual, nothing FE:3H belongs to me.

“You know, some of the first things most language-learners want to know how to say are the swear words and sex words, and yet you’ve never even made a passing hint at being interested in either,” Claude observed as Lorenz continued to attempt to string together a coherent sentence in Almyran that didn’t end up a jumble of half-Fodlanese, half-Almyran pronunciations. 

“I try not to be vulgar, and I don’t see a reason to know how to discuss sex when I’ll be working primarily in a diplomatic capacity,” Lorenz said. “I admit, it might be good to know what people are gossiping about around me, but that would be the only reason for me to know such coarse language.”

“And you will be a focus of gossip, for sure. You will probably be the first Fodlanese person that many Almyrans will see.”

“That is rather odd to think about,” Lorenz said. 

“Not necessarily. The Fodlan-Almyra border isn’t  _ that _ long, Almyra is fairly large, and the Fodlanese were isolationists for a very long time,” Claude said. “An advantage that I was  _ not _ expecting to have when investigating my Fodlanese heritage was the variety of coloration. There really is no one  _ traditional _ Fodlanese coloration, although the only student with darker skin than I at the Academy was Dedue, who was technically foreign-born himself, even if Duscur was absorbed into Faerghus. How’s that going, by the way?”

“Hm? Ah, you mean, how are the survivors of Duscur reacting to the Kingdom being no more? That is a question for Ingrid or Sylvain, not myself. I distantly recall there being news of a meeting with Duscur survivors, but I was neck-deep in negotiations with Sreng at the time, so didn’t really pay much attention, since nothing untoward occurred as a result.”

“Well, I certainly hope things are better for them,” Claude murmured. “I don’t know if they’ll be able to recover from genocide, but hopefully Fodlan will be more hospitable towards them with Teach at the reins.”

“I think it is a problem of Kingdom culture, but without the Kingdom...well, many people are looking to the Professor for guidance on how to approach former points of conflict, and the Professor is remarkably even-handed and tolerant. Given their position of authority both within the Church structure and governmentally, people tend to follow their lead, even if it is begrudgingly.”

“There’s really no one else like them, is there?” Claude said, smiling wryly.

“Do you wish that the Professor had chosen you as their spouse?” Lorenz asked, not sure what to make of the squirming feeling in his chest.

“Hm? Teach and--oh. I can’t deny that we would have made quite the power couple,” Claude replied. “I won’t say that it  _ didn’t _ cross my mind to ask, but by the time I had recovered from the final battle and came to the conclusion that there was a high enough chance that they might say yes for asking to be worth a shot, the noble Ferdinand von Aegir had already swooped in and professed his love and offered his heart in return for their hand in marriage.”

“It is unlike you to hesitate when there is something you desire within reach,” Lorenz observed, mildly confused at the  _ relief _ he felt.

“True, but...well, it doesn’t matter, does it? I missed that chance,” Claude said with a shrug. “Say, Lorenz.”

“Yes?”

“I know a lot of Fodlanese nobles tend to engage their kids early, so are you or were you ever affianced?”

“Twice, I believe,” Lorenz said. 

“T-twice?”

“I was...seven the first time, ten the second,” Lorenz said. “Each fell through, however.”

“Why?”

“I was never told,” Lorenz lied. “I suppose my parents thought me too young to understand some of the intricacies of noble marriage.”

“I can’t imagine,” Claude said and shook his head. “That sounds awful, having no choice in something that will be such a huge part of your life, so I’m glad that those engagements didn’t work out.”

“Such marriages are meant to minimize uncertainty and encourage stability,” Lorenz said. “Although, I suppose I’m grateful they fell through, too.”

“Really?”

“I doubt that I would have attended either the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad or the Officer’s Academy if I was properly affianced--there would have been no need. So, those engagements failing allowed me the chance to grow into a more capable man, I think. My parents are wonderful instructors, of course, but there is something to be said for exposure to new ideas and perspectives that I think has allowed me to be as successful as I am. Were you ever courted, being the crown prince?”

Claude shook his head and snorted. “No, not like I would have been in Fodlan if I had been raised as Duke Riegan’s heir. Gah, there’s so much to Almyran political structure that is different from Fodlanese that I’m not even sure where to begin.”

“From the top,” Lorenz said. “You are the son of the king, and thus inherited. If you had an elder sister, would she have inherited, or would you?”

“I would have inherited,” Claude said. “There has never been an independent Queen in Almyran history. If Mom had born only daughters, then one of my hypothetical sisters would have had to get married to ‘ascend’ in any capacity, but it would be her husband ruling, not her.”

“Edelgard’s presumed ascension must have come as a surprise for you to learn about, then.”

“Mom gave me a crash-course on Fodlanese politics before I left for Garreg Mach, but there was a bit of a learning curve,” Claude admitted. “Although the Alliance wasn’t  _ too _ different from what I was already being reared to lead. Almyra is headed by a king and his family, but the Court of Nine--the  _ un _ official name is Court of Vultures--holds a lot of sway.”

“Court of Nine?”

“Almyra can be divided into nine territories, and each of those territories has a, uh, governor that is elected by the local tribes. This governor acts as the voice of the territory, and serves on the Court of Nine for--guess the number of years.”

“...three?” Lorenz hazarded, based on how much the Almyran counting system liked the number three and its multiples.

“Good guess! You’re right,” Claude said with a quick grin. “The governor serves for three years, cannot be re-elected immediately after serving, and are only allowed to serve nine years total. The make-up of the Council is fairly rigid. There must be four men, four women, and one ah...oh, damn, there’s no Fodlanese word for it.” 

“Describe the concept, then,” Lorenz said. 

“A sex-less or between-sex person?” Claude offered. “It usually is either a post-menopausal woman or a castrated man. The internet is to have someone who can see from both sides of the sex line.”

“...why?”

“Tradition, at this point, although I’m sure there’s a religious meaning in there,” Claude said. “Among the groups of four, there must be a representative of each generation in terms of age. That way, you get a full scope of the issues and topics important amongst all Almyrans. Anyway, for most of the year, the Court of Nine governors travel within their territory, collecting grievances and whatnot for the local tribes, and just before the new year, they all convene in the capital and there is what feels like a  _ month _ of non-stop meetings as the king and his advisors meet with the governors and they hammer out a year’s worth of problems with a deadline of new year’s day so that the grievances of the old year can be left behind and the new year start fresh.”

“So...there is no nobility in Almyran lands?” Lorenz asked. “And if women are part of the government, why were there no female Almyran diplomats?”

Claude sighed heavily and rubbed his cheek as he thought. “For the most part, women are expected to have...inward-facing roles.”

“What?”

“It is seen as noble and good for  _ anyone _ to want to be a warrior, which is why there are women in the Almyran army, navy, and wyvren corps; otherwise, they’re expected to tend to primarily domestic concerns. This means that there are  _ plenty _ of women in local government, but none at higher levels. A woman’s primary concern should be her family and her immediate community. They’re--gaaah...”

“Claude?”

“It just feels so  _ wrong _ saying these things,” Cluade groaned. 

“It is the beliefs of the Almyran people at large you are explaining, not your own, if that makes it more tolerable?” Lorenz offered. 

“Women don’t have the ‘expansiveness of mind’ necessary for ruling an entire nation or charting the path of destiny for an entire people, and are also thought to not be...particularly intelligent in an abstract sense. Like, women are trusted with practical matters--home finances and whatnot--but they’re discouraged from going into business, so you’ll find all merchants are men.”

“Lysithea would have  _ words _ for those people who look down on a woman’s intelligence,” Lorenz commented dryly. 

Claude stretched, his shoulders popping. “My mother has challenged some beliefs, but she’s also a  _ foreigner _ , so of course she would be different.” 

“Are these conceptions some of the things you’re seeking to change in Almyra?”

“Oh dear gods, those notions are almost as entrenched as Crests in Fodlan,” Claude groaned. “It’s an uphill battle, but I have relaxed  _ a lot _ of laws that have encouraged women to at least dip their toes outside of their own household or tribe and become more actively engaged in public life.”

“Such as?”

“There was actually at one point a corporeal punishment for women  _ selling _ goods without the supervision of a male relative,” Claude said. “The justification was that women would either be taken advantage of due to their, er, lesser ability to understand the intricacies of commerce  _ or  _ would take advantage of unwary men by weaponizing their charm and get away with overcharging for goods.”

“That’s....rather nonsensical. They’re either too good or too inept at the same time,” Lorenz said, frowning. 

“Which is why I removed the punishment,” Claude said. “When I asked dad why he let such dumb laws stand, he simply said that a man can only pick so many battles to fight, and the status of women in Almyra was not a war he had the time or social capital to fight.”

“But you have chosen to fight that war?”

“I have taken on too many battles,” Claude sighed. “Traveling with you to visit my friends was partly a tactical retreat on my part. I have pissed off perhaps one too many influential people and a brief hiatus from politics and a temporary return to my parents’ guidance will likely settle some of the worse tempers.”

“If you are remembered for nothing else, you will be remembered for challenging the status quo,” Lorenz said with a small, wry smile.

Claude smiled faintly at that as well and ran his fingers through his hair. “I can hope history will be that kind.”

“How would Almyran society view a relationship such as Sylvain and Felix or Lindhardt and Caspar?”

Claude’s posture went oddly rigid for a second, which made Spot shift unhappily underneath him. Claude apologized to the horse, then cleared his throat and said, “It’s mixed.”

“Mixed?”

“Depending on where you are in Almyra and which tribe you speak to, it’s either completely acceptable or completely unacceptable. There is...less of a consensus, and it is born from slightly different subcultures you find throughout. Along the coasts, where there is a greater naval presence and sometimes men are gone to sea for months on fishing or military expeditions, there’s a joke that goes: ‘If you send 100 men out to sea for a campaign, when they return you’ll have 50 couples.’ You’ll also find that, among the cities, as long as the couple contributes to the betterment and prosperity of the settlement, no one cares. In fact, same-sex couples in cities are often looked upon favorably because many are capable of taking on unwanted children since they cannot have children of their own naturally. However...”

“Other tribes have a different view?”

“Some of the more aggressive nomadic tribes place a strong emphasis on procreation, almost as bad as here in Fodlan among the nobles,” Claude said. “A woman can avoid getting punished for adultery if she becomes pregnant by the man she cheated with and there is some kind of ‘proof’ that her husband is a, uh...mule.”

“And what happens then? He’s just expected to accept another man’s child into his family?”

“Put simply? Yes. Either that or she can divorce him and marry the man she cheated on him with. Problems arise if she cheated with a married man, and I think the standard procedure for solving  _ that _ is for both couples to divorce and marry the other.”

Lorenz shook his head, mystified. “So, I imagine that two men or two women together would be looked upon poorly in those tribes.”

“Two men moreso than two women,” Claude said. “Women ‘are weak without a man and need support’ so sometimes divorced or widowed women will move in together, and as long as they already have had children, people look the other way if there is clearly something  _ more _ between them. For men being together...it’s seen as a ‘waste of life’.”

“That, at least, is a view I am familiar with.”

“I’m guessing your family had  _ commentary _ on Felix and Sylvain marrying each other?”

“Mother was shocked that they would  _ share _ a woman and voiced an opinion that it must be overwhelming to have that much male attention; Father was the one who railed against men having sexual relations with each other and how the only saving grace was that they could still get heirs even if...well, his words are not worth repeating.”

Claude muttered something in Almyran that had enough slang that Lorenz was unable to interpret it, and Claude simply shook his head when Lorenz gave him an expectant look. 

“We’ll just leave it at I wasn’t exactly  _ complimenting _ your father,” Claude said. “So, how much more time do we have on the road? You’ve really improved the infrastructure in a short amount of time.”

“Trade is the lifeblood of any nation, and if people and goods are to move about freely, they need well-tended roads,” Lorenz said, sitting up slightly straighter out of pride. Setting about repairing roads and keeping them free of both bandits and debris kept displaced people busy with something other than mischief, and that had been a blessing. “But, we should arrive in Goldenfields late in the afternoon, and then after staying the night at The Howling Oak, we’ll be within roughly a day’s ride of Garreg Mach. We could press on if you want to reach Garreg Mach sooner, but I like beds.”

“And food other than travel rations,” Claude said. “Is Goldenfields like Riverton?”

“No, it’s smaller,” Lorenz said. “Riverton is at a crossroads, while Goldenfields tends to people coming in and out of Garreg Mach, or who don’t want to stay in the town itself.”

“Town? Garreg Mach is large enough to be a  _ town  _ now?”

“Wait till you see what’s been made of the place,” Lorenz said. “You only remember it as a hollowed-out shell or as the academy. It’s really come into its own.”

“Truly remarkable,” Claude mused. 

“Who are you most excited to see again?” Lorenz asked. “You were always closest to Hilda, but you both probably reconnected slightly during the summit.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Claude said. “I’m not sure. Petra, I suppose.”

“Petra?” Lorenz repeated, surprised in spite of himself.

“Of course! She’s the Queen of Brigid now and I always enjoyed her unique perspective. Since we were both foreigners, it was nice not feeling quite so out of my depth when Fodlanese traditions--like that gods-awful Ball--confused me.”

“Come now, the Ball was fun.”

“Fun for someone who grew up in Fodlan,” Claude said. 

“You also never answered if there is nobility in Almyra.”

Claude sighed. “Yes and no. There are people and families who have greater influence than others, wealth being the major dividing line, although how Fodlanese and Almyrans measure wealth is different due to the different lifestyles. There’s really no such thing as  _ bloodlines _ .”

“Interesting,” Claude murmured. “Who do people know who to look up to, then?”

“It's an individual choice and based on each person’s merit. Well…”

“Each  _ man’s _ merit.”

“Basically.”

“And who are the protectors?”

“It’s a more generalized thing--everyone is expected to look after each other.”

“It all seems so...chaotic.”

“Almyrans are proud of their independence.”

“So it would seem. How is local governance handled?”

“Depends on the tribe,” Claude responded. “But, in general, power and who wields it is constantly shifting. This is done to prevent despots, and before my dad’s line was established, there was a near-dynasty of those. That actually is what established the Court of Vultures--it was a way to keep in touch with the everyday Almyrans and to ensure that they had a say in the issues and problems that were brought to the highest level, and hold the king and his family accountable.”

“Interesting. Needlessly complicated, but a fascinating way to approach governance nonetheless.”

“Thank you?”

The two lapsed into thoughtful silence before Lorenz said, “How strange this all must have seemed to you, then, coming from a system of constantly rotating and changing power structures to the more rigidly determined Fodlanese system.”

“There were more than a few moments of culture shock when I first arrived in Fodlan,” Claude chuckled. “I’m glad Mom was with me then and that my grandfather was understanding. I think he was just happy to have a grandson and that his daughter was alive and well. Actually, did you ever know your grandparents growing up?”

“My paternal grandparents were dead before I was born, and I think that my maternal grandparents resented my father, so I met them about three times and never for long. My presence seemed to pain them.”

“....Aunts or uncles?”

“My father was an only child and my mother’s siblings were...less than fond of me, although their children are slightly less hostile; however, that might come from the sheer amount of power I wield more than them genuinely liking me.”

Claude shook his head in disbelief. 

“What are you going to do when you introduce me to your mother?” Lorenz asked.

“Pardon?” Claude said, his face inexplicably flushing.

“If I  _ am _ to be the ambassador, you’ll have to introduce me to the former queen eventually,” Lorenz pointed out. “My looks take after my father--I have been told that I am the spitting image of him when he was younger. I imagine that might bring up...bad memories for your mother.”

“It’s nice of you to be concerned, but she’ll be able to distinguish you two,” Claude said. “Probably. I should give that some thought in case she looks at you and sees your father and automatically assumes your personality is also like his.”

“Well, let me at least assure you that I’m more attractive than he ever was regardless of what people may say.”

Claude snorted. “Duly noted.”

The sky hung low most of the day, causing Lorenz to put on his rain cloak out of an abundance of caution--getting drenched once was more than enough for him--but thankfully, the weather held until they reached Goldenfields.

Goldenfields was a much smaller town, but still had all the necessary amenities. Due to being closer to the new Fodlanese capital, its denizens were used to catering to travelers going to and from the place, and it was still a bustle of activity, people traveling in and out in spite of the later hour.

The Howling Oak Inn and Tavern was a three-story, conjoined structure that was slightly off the main path and earned Lorenz a curious look from Claude, given that, based upon the other clientele entering and leaving through its large double-doors, it didn’t  _ seem _ to cater to the nobility.

“The other inn here--Everblossom Inn--is showier, more expensive, and has slightly better rooms, yes, but the Howling Oak has better service, food, and also employs private guards,” Lorenz said. “Shadow also likes the stable hands here better.”

“Uh-huh,” Claude said, not bothering to hide his amusement.

The innkeeper, Tabitha, recognized him and gave him a jaunty wave. “Welcome back, Your Grace. One room or two, private or shared?”

“Just one, private room please,” Lorenz said. 

“Of course, m’lord,” Tabitha said, doing a remarkably good job of restraining her curiosity, instead handing over two keys, one to each of them, after taking payment for the night. “Will you also be joining us for dinner? We have an actual bard tonight. I don’t guarantee the quality due to our not being quite so  _ flashy _ as the  _ other _ tavern in town, but it might be a pleasant way to end a hard day’s journey, no?”

“Indeed,” Lorenz agreed. “We’ll drop our things off in the room and then be back for dinner.”

“Of course,” Tabitha said. “We’ll have a table ready for you.”

“Much obliged.”

As they took the stairs up to the third floor, Lorenz caught a wry smile on Claude’s face. 

“Something the matter?”

“No, not at all,” Claude said. “Just...you really have changed, Lorenz, and for the better. I remember that even during the war you were fairly bad about speaking down to commoners.”

“Well, of course I have changed,” Lorenz said and opened their door once they made it to their room. “The pursuit of nobility is perfection, so I am always seeking to improve myself.”

The room was modestly appointed, with a queen-sized bed, a chest of drawers, a bedside table, a single chair, and an area rug covering most of the floor. While nothing was  _ luxurious _ , it was all clearly well-made and well-tended. Claude placed his bags on the floor with a soft sigh. 

“When we rode through town, it looked like most of the shops were closed,” Claude observed as he stretched.

“We will do what little shopping is needed tomorrow, then,” Lorenz said with a shrug. “Although I think we should be able to get to Garreg Mach on what we currently have.”

“You also seem to have a bit less notoriety here.”

“I’m not as involved in the running of this town,” Lorenz said. “Riverton is a bit of a project because of how explosively it’s grown and I don’t want matters there to go south, as it were.”

Claude hummed in understanding. “Shall we have dinner, then?”

The first floor doubled as a tavern, while the second and third floors held the rooms, with the second floor being dorm accommodations and the third being private rooms. The dining area was already bustling, and the bard was only  _ slightly _ off-key when singing, while their musicianship on the lute was impeccable.

Tabitha had them shown to a table that had been set aside for them, and a minute or so later a waitress approached. She  _ clearly _ had eyes only for Claude, who seemed actually a little off-put by her aggressive and tactless flirting as she told them the menu for the evening.

It took a  _ long _ moment for Lorenz to realize that the painful sensation in his chest was  _ jealousy _ . 

_ Nonsense, _ he thought.  _ Why would I be jealous of people flirting with Claude? _

“How are you still unmarried?” Lorenz asked as the server sashayed away after taking their order. “Look how people are drawn to you without even knowing who you are. Surely it is not exclusive to Fodlan.”

“Weirdly,  _ it is _ ,” Claude said with a small smile. “It’s gotten less marked now that I’m actually king, but growing up in Almyra, I was always seen as  _ less than _ . Although now that people  _ are _ trying to curry favor with me, I find it...disheartening?”

“I suppose I can understand that, given how you’ve indicated you want your relationship with your wife to be like,” Lorenz said. 

“I also confess to not always being so charming,” Claude said with a wry smile. “I had a few years of being angry and vindictive over how  _ unfair _ people were to me and my family, and I imagine that that turned off even the few people who  _ might _ have liked me.”

“ _ You _ ?” Lorenz said, surprised. “You always struck me as the ‘don’t get mad, get even’ type of person.”

“It took a conversation with my parents to change me to a get-even-not-mad person,” Claude said and leaned his chin on top of his interlaced fingers. “I was shunned and insulted for a lot of my childhood all because I was half-Fodlanese, and that riled and rankled me. However, getting  _ angry _ just means that you let the other person win by controlling how you feel, and I didn’t want anyone to control me, so...I learned to stop being angry and start feeling  _ sorry _ for the other person. They were so small-minded, so misguided--they deserved my  _ pity _ , not my anger.”

“That’s an interesting stance to take.”

“It works for me,” Claude said with a shrug.

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled only by the sound of the bard struggling to be heard over the din of an increasingly busy tavern. The potent smells of food and alcohol curled around them, and while they did get the occasional curious look--Lorenz was  _ recognizable _ \--no one approached them until their server with their food.

“Here you go, m’lords,” the server said and fluttered her eyelashes at Claude, who gave her a polite smile in return. Lorenz should  _ not _ have felt as smugly pleased over the disappointment that crossed her features as she flounced away, but Claude’s clear rejection of her advances mollified a part of him that was bristling for no discernible reason.

The food was heavy and filling, and the bard, while entertaining, wasn’t up to Lorenz’s standards, so he and Claude left for their room soon after finishing their meal. However, Claude seemed almost  _ brooding _ , staring at a fixed middle-distance, deep in thought to the point that Lorenz had to keep him from walking  _ past _ their room. The silence lingered as Lorenz doffed his armor and he only spoke once he took a seat on the bed, Claude having been an unmoving, pensive statue during his nightly routine.

“What is bothering you?” Lorenz asked, breaking the weird, twisting silence that hung between them as Claude played with one of the medallions on his waist-sash. 

Claude looked  _ uncomfortable _ as he sat down next to Lorenz on the bed, cleared his throat, and spoke as he worked on removing his boots, “There’s...I’ve been meaning to broach a topic with you for a while, but never could figure out the right way to phrase it.”

“And? Please be forthright--speaking in your dialect of circle can be exhausting,” Lorenz drawled even if his heart inexplicably skipped a beat.

Claude snorted as he tossed the first boot aside. “At least you recognize you speak circle just as fluently, even if the  _ dialect _ is different.”

“The perils of politics.”

“Indeed. Very well.” Claude fell silent until his other boot was removed, then turned to Lorenz and said: “I hope you know that I no longer find you a nuisance. That I don’t dislike you or find you distasteful, and that I  _ do _ think of you as an equal in spite of the difference in our political positions. I want you to know that the reason I left without telling  _ you _ was because I felt if I said goodbye, then that meant I would never see you again. While I didn’t understand the reason  _ why _ back then, I wanted to leave open the option that our paths could cross once more.”

Lorenz was at a loss for what to say, which was unusual for him. 

“The most uncomfortable part about realizing  _ that _ , though, was the reality that I missed you. I missed everyone, of course, but...I didn’t expect to miss  _ you _ ,” Claude continued in the face of Lorenz’s silence.

“...come again?” Lorenz said.

“You heard me right,” Claude said, catching and holding Lorenz’s eyes, and Lorenz would have  _ sworn _ he felt the lightest brush of Claude’s fingers against the back of his hand. “I missed  _ you _ .”

“You hated me!”

“Did I, though?” Claude muttered, and Lorenz half-thought he wasn’t supposed to hear it, except for how Claude never looked away. He turned to more fully face Lorenz and lifted his hand slightly, hesitated, then resolutely--but gently--placed it on the junction of Lorenz’s shoulder and neck, his thumb lightly resting over Lorenz’s pulse. “During the war, you always had the best interests of the Alliance at heart, and pushed me to be the best ruler I could be; it seemed to me that if  _ you _ couldn’t lead, then you sure as hell didn’t want to put the fate of the nation in inept hands and would make sure I did the best job possible. How could I hate someone who clearly saw  _ greatness  _ in me?”

“I--I didn’t--” Lorenz semi-stuttered, his face inexplicably heating. It was strange, but he was more aware of how Claude needing to turn had brought him close enough that their knees touched than of the hand on his shoulder. “I simply didn’t want others to suffer the consequences of your foolishness.”

“In Almyra, all the people seem to see is my father’s mistake or Fodlanese trickery, they  _ assume _ I am weak in spite of my mother leaving everything behind to be with the man she loves. They don’t see greatness, they see a liability. Every day, someone is looking for me to mess up, so they can mutter something about Fodlanese blood being lesser. They question my decisions only to bog me down and make me seem inept, not to hone my actions. I have found myself wishing for  _ you  _ to be by my side again.”

Lorenz wasn’t sure what to make of how fast his heart was beating, nor what the mixture of pain, pleasure, longing, and disbelief that hammered through his veins  _ meant _ . The way that Claude was pointedly no longer looking at him but at his hand on Lorenz’s shoulder said that, perhaps, there was substantially  _ more _ to what he wasn’t saying, but it was just outside Lorenz’s comprehension.

“Well, assuming that the Professor is as amicable to your nomination of me as the Fodlanese ambassador to Almyra as you think they will be, I will be available for consultation,” Lorenz said. “Although, I am not sure if you should take me on as an advisor, regardless of how much good it would do you. The Almyran nobility might think you’re shunning your own people and try even harder to dispose you.”

“Or your presence might further acclimate them to the fact that an alliance with Fodlan is beneficial and open their eyes to how the Almyran perspective isn’t the  _ only _ one; especially since you yourself have come so far in being able to see from other people’s points-of-view,” Claude said, looking at Lorenz again and shifting his hand to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind Lorenz’s ear before letting his hand rest on Lorenz’s knee. “And it isn’t like my father hasn’t already set the precedent of ignoring the prejudice against Fodlanese natives to bring one into his confidence. Please, Lorenz. I want--no,  _ need _ \--you by my side.”

Claude’s green eyes were desperately trying to tell him something, but Lorenz’s mind skittered along the edge of what that look  _ meant _ , of the hidden meanings in Claude’s words. Lorenz knew double-speak well enough to write a translation guide for most instances, but there was simply no way he was reading into Claude’s words correctly. It was almost as if Claude was saying that he liked Lorenz in a  _ romantic _ sense. But, that  _ couldn’t _ be right. The world simply didn’t work that way. Such attraction was pointless, fruitless, deviant,  _ selfish _ . Some men might be able to afford the luxury of being attracted to another man, but Claude was a king, and thus needed heirs, and Lorenz knew  _ his  _ duty.

While a not-insignificant part of Lorenz was preening over the possibility of a  _ king _ being enamored with him, a much larger part was staring at the information available in Claude’s words, in his posture, his gaze, his touches, his actions from the past days and finding himself at a loss. Lorenz’s mind was somehow blank and jumbled all at once, his thoughts racing fast enough to create a kind of white noise. 

Before the war, not a single female student showed any interest in him no matter how often he approached them; during the war, he was more worried about the survival of the Alliance and balancing his father’s expectations and ambitions with the realities of the conflict; afterwards, he had been more concerned with rebuilding from the ashes. If he was brutally honest with himself and went back even further than just his school days, Lorenz wasn’t sure his  _ parents  _ had desired him as anything other than an abstract, without much care for the person himself. He was a Crest-bearing Gloucester male, and thus a worthy heir to the House; that was what actually mattered. That it seemed as if Claude was looking at him for  _ Lorenz  _ was--but, was he? Was Claude seeing  _ him _ ? 

No, he most certainly was not; how could he? Claude had mentioned he had planned to ask Hilda to marry him before he discovered that she was going to propose to Marianne and had also contemplated asking the Professor, and they had perversely bonded over the pressure from their mothers to marry and have children. Whatever this  _ flattery  _ was, it was just another one of Claude’s schemes--although for  _ what _ , Lorenz had no clue. The realization was almost  _ comforting. _ It re-established the right order of things and tamed the unruly, unwanted  _ thing _ that clawed at Lorenz’s insides and shoved memories of touches and jokes and smiles that  _ had _ to mean  _ something _ at him.

Claude had been watching him closely, his expression carefully guarded but somehow intense. 

“Of course you need me,” Lorenz said and delicately pushed off Claude’s hand. “If you speak truly that my challenges helped ensure that you didn’t get us killed during the war, then I would be more than happy to continue to provide that service. I’ll make sure to mention that to the Professor when we petition them to appoint me to the position.”

The frown that had been threatening on Claude’s face snapped into place as something like irritated confusion bloomed in his eyes. “Lorenz--”

Lorenz held up his hand in a request for silence, which Claude obeyed. “Providing nothing unforeseen happens, we should arrive at Garreg Mach either tomorrow or early the next day. While I did relay the message to  _ everyone _ in our class, who knows if it got to where it needed to be on time or if they’ll be able to make the time to visit on such short notice?”

“Yeah,” Claude said, sounding less enthusiastic than he had previously. “It’ll be nice, for sure.”

“Claude, what’s wrong?”

“Do  _ you _ ...still hate me?” Claude asked. “I mean, it was clear when we were in school that you did, but I thought you thawed at least  _ slightly _ during the war, and our recent interactions have me thinking you don’t, but...”

“No, I don’t hate you,” Lorenz replied, only slightly unnerved by both how quick and  _ honest _ the answer was. “Not anymore, for certain.”

“Really?”

Lorenz wasn’t sure what to make of the soft  _ hope _ in Claude’s voice as he said that one, simple word. 

“Yes,” Lorenz replied, equally simply. 

Claude’s shoulders visibly dropped, if only by a fraction. “You know, if you don’t feel comfortable sharing the bed--”

“We’re still sleeping together--for your protection,” Lorenz said, shamelessly interrupting. “While this inn also employs guards, there is always the chance that someone might get beyond them. There are also no extra blankets, I will not have you sleeping on the chair without covering, and I have a feeling that you would be equally disinclined for me to do so.”

It was more than a little concerning, but something between frustration, confusion, and relief passed through Claude’s eyes and flitted over his face before he simply gave Lorenz a familiar cocked-smile. “Alright. Let me set up the bells.”

It was quick, mostly-quiet work, setting up the bells, and there was an odd pleasure in just  _ watching _ Claude move. His motions were deft, quick, and sure, even if it was clear he was thinking hard enough that  _ Lorenz _ almost felt the beginnings of the sympathy-headache. Lorenz kept one eye on Claude as he prepared himself for bed, and while the bed wasn’t as good as their last inn’s, it was still better than dirt, and all of Lorenz’s back muscles were screaming at him for being so mean and taunting them with comfort interspersed with days of unyielding stone. 

“Why the wince?” Claude asked as he sat down on the opposite side of the bed.

“I’m used to better beds than the ground and this,” Lorenz said and patted the mattress for extra emphasis. “My back isn’t terribly pleased with me.”

Claude chuckled and shook his head. “I hate to admit, but I’m feeling the same way. It’ll be nice to spend a whole  _ week _ at Garreg Mach. Those beds aren’t  _ amazing _ , but they do put up with nobility, so I was surprised by how  _ comfortable _ they were when I first arrived.”

“You thought  _ Garreg Mach’s _ beds were comfortable?”

“Just wait till you get a better feel for Almyran beds,” Claude seemed to tease as he stretched out beside Lorenz. “They’re  _ very _ firm.”

“I might have to request having a Fodlanese mattress imported, then,” Lorenz sighed. 

“Hey, even my mom got used to them after a while, I’m sure you will, too.”

“And if I don’t want to get used to it?” Lorenz asked, rolling onto his side so he could look at Claude. “Would you let me have a mattress imported?”

Claude’s face turned to him because of the motion, and he caught an almost  _ playful _ smirk on Claude’s face, which soothed a part of Lorenz that was bizarrely anxious over Claude’s formerly ill humors. “I dunno, it’s not exactly a short trip to the Almyran capital from Fodlan’s Throat, so you’d have to find Fodlanese merchants willing to make such a trip, and I’m not sure how eager they’d be.”

“Then perhaps a Fodlanese-style mattress can be commissioned using more typical Almyran materials?”

“That sounds both more feasible  _ and _ something that a few craftsmen might take as a worthy challenge,” Claude commented. “A lot of Almyrans might not  _ like _ Fodlanese, but they do recognize that you have  _ some _ expert craftsmanship in certain things. Just not boats.”

“The Fodlanese have never been known for their Navy,” Lorenz pointed out around a yawn. “My apologies.”

“Go to sleep, Lorenz,” Claude said, and Lorenz was less surprised with himself than he maybe should have been when Claude lightly trailing his hand over his (Lorenz’s) eyes made them close. “All the logistical problems will be there in the morning. I hope you sleep well.”

“Same to you,” Lorenz murmured back before yawning again and snuggling into the mattress, Claude pulling the blanket over them both.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to all you lovely people who read, comment, and/or leave a kudo; I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to read my story. :)
> 
> And, per usual, FE:3H does not belong to me.

Lorenz wanted to cry with frustration and exhaustion when he woke to Claude embracing him from behind, the man’s body molded against his own, one of Claude’s hands lightly clutching the fabric of Lorenz’s shirt over his heart. Lorenz’s dreams had been restless, half-formed phantoms, tantalizing glimpses of memories of whispered stories he had overheard while taking tea in the garden courtyard at Garreg Mach or bantered about between soldiers when they were on campaign. The few erotic dreams he had had previously hadn’t featured anyone in particular as a partner; however, his mind had almost  _ gleefuly _ substituted Claude into the formerly faceless desire, and it left Lorenz vibrating with confusion. His heart  _ ached  _ too much for him to be aroused, because while his mind  _ had  _ speculated on sexual intimacy, it had lingered much longer on  _ family _ , and that hurt more than he would have expected. Dreaming of sex was annoying; dreaming of hearing someone say those three little words and meaning them sincerely nearly broke him.

Still, he was the Count Gloucester, leader of the former-Alliance lands, brokerer of peace between Fodlan’s neighbors, a scion of a long, powerful, influential noble House. He couldn’t have dreams about a  _ man’s _ hands on his body, couldn’t entertain musings on what future could be had with him. Anything Lorenz experienced with Claude would be purposeless, wasteful--pointless--so he shouldn’t be curious about it in the first place. He was to marry a woman of noble bearing, have children with her, and pass on his Crest and blood to the next generation. It was his duty, his destiny, and always had been. Nothing could change that.

His desires were always secondary to his obligations.

The gentlest of _ probably _ -accidental butterfly kisses on the back of his neck made Lorenz voice a strangled sigh as his heartbeat spiked. Part of him wanted to know--what would intimacy with Claude be like?--but he also knew that he could never find out. It would be a kind of betrayal, to indulge even once. Nobles needed to be strong of will as well as physically capable. Even if he was excruciatingly aware of every place Claude touched him, nothing could come of his desires. 

_ “The only thing a true noble should  _ desire  _ is prosperity--for his House and nation. If we followed our whims and desires like the peasantry, it would lead the Alliance to ruin, so discard this nonsensical drivel about  _ love  _ from your mind. I refuse to allow you to bring shame to our House.” _

His father had told him that as he threw the notebooks that contained years of poetry and stories into one of the Gloucester manse’s fireplaces. Any notebook that Lorenz had been given afterwards for his studies was swiftly confiscated after his lessons were done for the day, and every book that came into the estate had to be vetted by either his mother or father first; the servants had been terrified of his parents, so he had known better than to beg them to smuggle something other than approved literature into his home. 

It hadn’t stopped Lorenz from daydreaming and badly eavesdropping, from attending what plays and operas he could convince his mother to take him to, from  _ watching _ how the other nobles who they visited or who visited them behaved, but it had killed his muse and left him listless and without a hobby to while away the hours of punishment that came from the smallest infraction, the slightest deviation from his family’s perception of the perfect noble heir. 

Claude stirred only enough to settle more comfortably and snuggly against Lorenz, his leg slipping between Lorenz’s, hand relaxing to spread out flat against Lorenz’s chest, his cheek pressed against the crook of Lorenz’s neck. Lorenz didn’t groan in frustration, but just barely. Yes, he would reluctantly admit that he enjoyed Claude’s cuddles, that being held like he was had him feeling not weak, but  _ cherished _ , and he enjoyed being able to hold Claude  _ a lot _ , but Lorenz was half-certain that Claude wasn’t asleep and was  _ testing _ him. Lorenz  _ would _ stay strong, though. 

Lorenz caught himself absently running his thumb lightly over Claude’s knuckles, and a part of him that was clearly insane wanted to bring Claude’s hand to his lips, but that would likely wake the other man if he wasn’t already, and there was no reason for Lorenz to  _ want  _ to do that, so he wouldn’t.

_ What do I  _ do _? _ Lorenz wondered to himself, using his other hand to rub at his eyes, trying to move as little as possible so as to not wake Claude.  _ I shouldn’t have still slept alongside him. I should have told him outright that we can’t be anything besides comrades, that I will advise him and stand beside him, but I can’t stand with him, I should have-- _

Lorenz froze when a soft scratching sound, too methodical and furtive to be rodents, wafted over to him. He kept his breathing easy and slow and focused on the sound--where was it coming from?

Claude mumbled something in his sleep, and him speaking caused the sounds to stop; however, after a few minutes, they began again, and Lorenz eventually decided that they were coming from the door.

_ Someone’s trying to get in, _ Lorenz thought, and he was suddenly  _ painfully _ awake and aware that he  _ had _ to protect Claude from a potential assassin or thief.

Lorenz slowly repositioned Claude’s body, removing his leg and moving his arm back to his side, but even such slow and gentle motions were enough to wake Claude, although Lorenz shifting on the mattress may have also contributed to that wakefulness.

As he turned to face the door, Lorenz saw Claude blink blearily, but when the other man opened his mouth to speak, Lorenz placed a finger to his lips, shaking his head as he watched the door intently. Whoever the thief was hadn’t heard Lorenz’s movements, which was a relief. The locks were either very well made, or the thief was very inept.

Lorenz moved slowly so he was straddling Claude, one of his hands braced against the headboard as he conjured four small, white-blue-gold glittering sparks in his other palm, the very beginning of a Sagittae spell. He tensed as there was a shout from one of the guards that patrolled the inn, and someone--a female-sounding voice--made insincere excuses and apologies. Heavy footsteps made the floorboards creak and there was a low argument that ended in what sounded like three people walking away.

Lorenz stayed where he was until he could no longer hear the footsteps, then looked to Claude. Claude appeared rather...overwhelmed...his face a shade or three darker than Lorenz was used to seeing.

“Are you okay?” Lorenz asked. 

Claude visibly swallowed then gave him a more shaky version of his signature cocked-smile and said, “Smart of you to choose that spell over your usual fire. I don’t think the innkeep would have been happy at having his establishment burnt down.”

“No, I didn’t think so either,” Lorenz said and dispelled the spell in a rather pretty, small explosion of sparkles before shifting away from Claude to stand. “Stay there.”

Lorenz’s heart was still beating a little hard out of tension, and he moved as slowly and carefully as possible to check the windows to ensure that no one was waiting outside--doubtful, being on the third floor, but assassins could be inventive and he knew the best ones to be exceptional archers--before stopping in front of the door and pressing his ear to it. He held his breath and  _ listened _ , and only let out his breath slowly once he didn’t hear anyone breathing on the other side. He slowly unlocked the door and opened it a crack, to reveal an empty hallway. He closed the door and locked it again as well as propping the room’s chair under the doorknob.

“Hopefully that was your run-of-the-mill thief and nothing more serious,” Lorenz murmured. “I’ll have to remember to take the side of the bed closer to the door at any other inn we stay at. I suppose we were lucky that my sleep was...troubled...and I was awake to hear the attempt at entry.”

“Might I remind you that I’m just as capable a warrior as you are?” Claude commented, now sitting up and watching Lorenz return to the bed.

“And may I remind you that my spells have longer range than your dagger that you keep beneath your pillow  _ and _ that I promised Nader that I would look after you, and the goddess knows I don’t want to know how that man reacts to someone breaking a promise?” Lorenz responded as he sat down. “I more than trust you to hold your own in battle. This was just an...exceptional circumstance. I will have to commend the innkeeper for her security.”

Claude hummed in agreement, but still looked distracted.

“ _ Are _ you okay?” Lorenz asked again, distantly concerned by how  _ weird _ Claude was behaving. 

“Are  _ you _ ?” Claude asked in return.

“Of course,” Lorenz said. “Do you think we should leave now, while our thief or assassin is occupied, or wait until more people rise?”

Claude looked thoughtful and said, “We should wait. If we leave now, we’ll be on guard, so if they’re an assassin worth their salt, they won’t attack and will observe until we relax, and will probably follow us to our next rest stop. If we linger until the morning rush, then it might be a bit harder--not much, considering how tall you are and your coloration  _ and _ the fact that Shadow is a show-off, but at least there will be too many witnesses for a clean, simple kill.”

“How vexing,” Lorenz sighed. “Still, I suppose that we have run into remarkably few problems during our travel, all things considered.”

“Only one instance of bandits,” Claude said. After a short pause, Claude sighed and said, “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get back to sleep.”

“Same,” Lorenz reluctantly admitted. “Why don’t we have my language lesson now, since there isn’t enough room for physical exercise?”

Claude’s face flushed momentarily dark and he cleared his throat before nodding and saying, “Sure. We’ll review everything I’ve tried to teach you the past week and work on making simple sentences, too. I expect you to keep practicing while we’re at Garreg Mach even if we don’t manage daily lessons.”

“Of course.”

They practiced Lorenz’s faltering attempts at actually speaking the language until it was clear the rest of the inn had come to life for the morning, then gathered their belongings in slightly tense silence.

_ I doubt either of us will rest easy until we’ve dealt with the rogue or are in Garreg Mach, _ Lorenz thought as they walked down the flight of stairs to the entryway. It was a bit of a dance, and both he and Claude had to pull the other out of harm’s way more than once while retrieving their mounts due to the sheer bustle that came from the start of the day, and Lorenz was both relieved and anxious to be back on the road. 

"If we travel at a faster pace, we might be able to make it to Garreg Mach today, although that will require some travel after sundown," Lorenz said once they were out of Goldenfields proper. "I know Shadow can make it, but I'm not so sure about Spot."

"Just because he’s lost his balls doesn't mean he’s lost his masculine pride," Claude said. "I'm sure he'll keep up."

"If you say so." 

"Let's go!"

Claude urged Spot into a gallop, and Shadow shifted into the same with only light prompting from Lorenz.

There was a certain freedom when Shadow was running his fastest, in how quickly the scenery passed, the wind whistling in Lorenz’s ears, his hair trailing slightly behind him. It made him feel powerful, almost untouchable, even if there was no reason to feel that way. He easily passed Claude, who perversely laughed as Lorenz pulled ahead. He slowed Shadow down to match Spot's pace, and the distance passed effortlessly. The roads near Garret Mach had been paved, so there was little chance of serious injury, which allowed them to run until Spot began to falter, wherein they slowed down. Still, they had made significant headway.

They stopped only long enough to wipe down the horses of excess sweat and make sure they had an opportunity to drink water before they were on their way again. Due to the increased speed of travel, there was no conversation, which left Lorenz plenty of time to mull over the morning’s events. 

_ Were we to be victims of circumstance, chosen because we are nobles and thus have money or was it more targeted than that? _ He wondered.  _ And if it was more targeted, which of us were they going after? Claude only introduced himself as an Almyran ambassador in Riverton, but that alone may be enough to justify political assassination. Of course, there are people who dislike me and want to see me dead, so the assassin could be after me, too. Who could  _ I  _ have annoyed enough to prompt them to hire a killer? _

However, as he tried to unravel who could be plotting against him and Claude, his mind kept circling around to the image of Claude beneath him, face flushed, expression confused--no,  _ flustered _ was the better word--as sleep still lingered in his eyes. An unworthy feeling of  _ powerfulness _ wound around Lorenz’s heart, that someone would look so intimidated yet somehow  _ pleased _ that Lorenz would be looming over them.

_ How strange. Why would he look like that? _ Lorenz wondered.  _ I know he’s not scared of me. And why would he  _ blush _ when I mentioned there not being enough room to exercise _ ?

After reflection, Lorenz  _ was _ able to come up with answers to those questions, but they were so nonsensical that he wondered why he even thought of them in the first place.  _ If _ Lorenz had read into what Claude said the previous night correctly, then Claude being attracted to him explained both the look of overwhelm--Lorenz wasn’t hard pressed to imagine that waking up to that being done to  _ him _ by someone he was attracted to would have left him pleasantly bothered--and also would heavily imply that Claude had had  _ plenty _ of ideas as to what kind of  _ exercise _ could have been engaged in. 

Lorenz hated that a part of him was intrigued by it all; no, perhaps  _ intrigue  _ was too mild a word for the feeling that whispered to him. Claude was  _ temptation, _ and that sensation was vastly unfamiliar. Lorenz had found himself attracted to plenty of women before--the goddess knew he had harbored fleeting infatuations for the majority of the female members of the Golden Deer House--but that same emotion being directed towards another man, towards  _ Claude _ , was absurd. 

_ I’m clearly working too hard and not getting out enough, _ Lorenz eventually decided.  _ The problem is that the Professor doesn’t hold Fodlan to the same standards of nobility and expected behavior as the previous countries did. Balls and similar soirees are much more infrequent now. Admittedly, it isn’t as if many nobles had the excess money to spend on such frivolities, but I need to be more social,  _ clearly _. _

When they stopped for a break by a stream, Claude said, “I say we ride until we reach Garreg Mach.”

Lorenz quirked an eyebrow. “You’re concerned that we’re being followed?”

Claude inclined his head slightly. “You looked like you were thinking pretty hard, too. Are you also of the opinion that there’s no way that  _ our _ room would be picked by accident?”

Lorenz nodded, not wanting to admit that Claude had been the subject of his thoughts. “It’s odd. I’ve never been targeted before while staying there, and I never hid my wealth. While we only mentioned you as an Almyran representative in Riverton, I suppose that alone is enough to make you a target. I have enemies of my own, of course, but I can’t think of anyone who would want to  _ kill _ me.”

“Oh, you’re  _ not _ universally beloved?” Claude seemed to tease.

Lorenz shook his head, unable to stop a rueful smile. “In trying to do well by the commoners who suffered due to the war, I’ve made some enemies among the lesser nobility. They think that by providing the commoners with more opportunities that I am taking something away from  _ them _ . I’m not, but...well, that’s not how they perceive my actions.”

“Fair treatment feels like oppression to those accustomed to having everything,” Claude murmured. 

“So it would seem,” Lorenz sighed. “Come. The road is yet long.”

Concerns heaped on top of worries as he rode--what if he couldn’t find someone else willing to take on stewardship of the former-Alliance? What if the Professor declined their request for him to serve as the Fodlanese ambassador to Almyra? Who would want Claude dead badly enough to follow him into another country? Or was he himself the target? Was  _ he _ attracted to Claude? How would Lorenz explain his potential new position to his family? Would his father accept someone else’s handling of the Alliance, or would he somehow try to take control? What was he doing wrong, that he was the only one amongst his class--besides Claude--who wasn’t married? Why had their travel been so comparatively easy? What problems had cropped up in his absence that needed to be tended to before he could even  _ think _ of leaving Fodlan? Why did he like holding and being held by Claude? Why had he so readily agreed to be the Fodlanese ambassador to Almyra when he had so many unresolved concerns keeping him busy at home? Shouldn’t he be more worried about the Fodlanese people than acting as a diplomat? Were the programs he put in place to help recover from the war sustainable or would they die with him? 

Lorenz rubbed his temples and sighed heavily. 

_ One problem at a time, _ Lorenz thought, not even Shadow’s obvious joy at going fast not fully breaking into his mood.  _ Review your Almyran. That should keep you occupied. _

However, his review of Almyran only served to continually bring his thoughts back to Claude, which was  _ frustrating _ . It didn’t matter if his opinion of the man had changed, Claude’s smile did  _ not _ make his stomach twist, he did  _ not _ enjoy the low heat he sometimes caught in Claude’s gaze, and he most certainly did  _ not _ want to know what it would be like to kiss Claude. One-sided attraction was a perfectly common problem, and just because Claude was probably the first person to show genuine romantic interest in him, it didn’t mean he was required to reciprocate the feelings. He was doing Claude a  _ favor _ by resisting. They both had obligations to their respective people, and those obligations included children, which necessitated marrying a woman.

_ If we could have children, I wonder what they’d look like, _ Lorenz mused before he could stop himself.  _ That _ thought fed into a brief, terrifying domestic fantasy, because it was  _ easy _ to picture Claude as a doting father and loving husband, which in turn prompted the question of what he, Lorenz, would be like as a husband and father. While a part of him reflexively insisted that he would be the Best Ever because he was Lorenz Hellman Gloucester and being anything besides exceptional was out of the question, a more brutally honest facet of himself was laughing with panic at the notion, because he had  _ no clue _ how to be either a father or a husband. His father hadn’t been terribly involved in Lorenz’s life unless Lorenz was proving  _ lacking _ or for training, so Lorenz’s conception of a  _ father _ was ‘authority figure to be feared and appeased to ensure minimal involvement’; as for  _ husband _ ...well, in terms of personal exposure to what the role was, Lorenz had honestly no idea. Provider? Protector? What  _ was _ his father to his mother? All he knew about what a husband should be came from watching other families or through exposure via books or plays.

_ Well, clearly I will do better and be better than my own father, _ Lorenz told himself.  _ But, that is putting the cart before the horse, so to speak. I need to get married first. _

His brain unhelpfully pointed out that Claude had mentioned that  _ they _ should marry since everyone else was already taken, which made Lorenz scowl at the space between Shadow’s ears, because he was  _ not _ going to marry  _ Claude _ . They both required heirs, which meant they both had to marry  _ women, _ as Lorenz didn’t know of any magic that made it possible for a man to carry a child. So, even if the thought was intriguing--which it most certainly  _ wasn’t _ \--it was pointless.

_ Maybe I should ask someone else to escort him to Goneril territory while I get my affairs in order and I’ll meet him at Fodlan’s Locket. Perhaps I shouldn’t accept the ambassadorship, not if being around him is making me think and feel things that are so...unworthy. I...I suddenly can’t think clearly. Why? _

Lorenz pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a few deep, steadying breaths, trying desperately to calm his unruly and bizarre emotions, but they refused to settle, musings and hopes and fears bouncing around inside his skull and leaving him on edge as they continued to ride hard towards Garreg Mach.  Thankfully, light continued well past dusk, given the full moon that hung in the sky, so they didn’t need to stop to light torches nor slow down excessively to make sure said torches didn’t go out. 

It was an intensely nostalgic experience, breaking free of the treeline to see Garreg Mach sitting up on its plateau, looming over the surrounding countryside, with Claude beside him. The only thing that  _ wasn’t _ familiar was the lack of an army at their backs, wounded comrades to care for while they both mourned the dead and celebrated their victory. 

“It looks...whole again,” Claude commented as they slowed down to a trot, since running through the sprawling town that had grown around the monastery would cause unnecessary alarm.

“I know you aren’t a believer, but you have to see the rebuilt Cathedral,” Lorenz said. “Ignatz outdid himself on the paintings.”

“He must have been thrilled to have been asked,” Claude replied, smiling faintly.

“It was the work of a few years, but he has every right to be proud of his achievement,” Lorenz said. “I don’t think I’d ever seen him work so hard on, well..anything else. I’m relieved he gave up on becoming a knight to focus on his actual dream.”

“Will the gates still be open to us? It’s after sundown,” Claude said. 

“Have you forgotten who you are traveling with?” Lorenz said archly. “We’ll be allowed in, do not fret.”

“Right, right,” Claude said, a smile threatening. “No need to worry as long as I’m traveling with Count Gloucester.”

“Precisely.”

They traveled easily through the rebuilt town surrounding Garreg Mach, the later hour discouraging people from being out and about. Still, the town was larger and more prosperous each time Lorenz visited, and that left him feeling...relieved. All of his hard work was worth it, seeing how Fodlan had recovered from the war that tore it apart.

They reached the Monastery gates, and Lorenz hailed the guard. There was a chain of calls, and a young man appeared in the window of the guard tower next to the main gate.

“Who goes there?” he asked, his voice filled with confidence he clearly didn’t actually feel, judging by his expression. He was likely a newer recruit who had been told to take care of things because his superiors were too lazy.

“Lorenz Hellman Gloucester and Claude von Riegan,” Lorenz answered. 

The neophyte guard pushed up a slightly-too-large helmet, brown eyes wide at recognition of the names, and disappeared back into the guard tower, completely forgetting to close the window in his rush.

“Lorenz,” Claude sighed.

“I didn’t do anything besides state our names,” Lorenz responded smoothly.

After a moment, the doors swung open, allowing Lorenz and Claude in, before closing with a firm, resounding  _ thud _ behind them. 

“Can I, uh, help you with anything else...m’lords?” the neophyte said,  _ clearly _ sweating at talking to two such well-known figures.

“Ah, Cyril said he thought he saw you approaching.”

Lorenz looked over to see Seteth standing not too far from the entrance, his face in its usual stern expression. 

“Hey, Seteth! Been a while, hasn’t it?” Claude said, and Lorenz recognized that the man’s good cheer was slightly forced--Seteth had been a major gatekeeper of information throughout their Academy days and the war, so it wasn’t  _ surprising _ that Claude wasn’t particularly fond of the man.

“It has indeed, Your Royal Majesty,” Seteth said, giving Claude a small, polite nod. “You’re one of the last of your classmates to arrive.”

“Oh? Who has yet to arrive?”

“Hilda and Marianne as well as Dorthea and Petra are the only pairs still en route.”

“Really? Everyone else is here? That’s...frankly amazing, considering how little time we gave,” Claude said, his upbeat tone becoming even more forced.

Lorenz hadn’t missed the implication in Seteth’s statement either, and wasn’t terribly fond of it himself--he and Claude weren’t a couple and could never be one. Insinuating it was almost  _ insulting _ , but Seteth was a meddler and there was no need to correct him, since a denial would likely only add fuel to the rumors that were likely going to spread, if the looks the guards exchanged indicated anything.

“Some were already here visiting, so decided to simply linger,” Seteth replied. “Due to Count Gloucester’s efforts, we’ve seen an uptick in enrollment, but we made sure to keep a few rooms open for visitors. I can have you shown to your rooms and then, perhaps, you’d join everyone for a late dinner? I believe some of the Golden Deer are still catching up in the dining hall.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Lorenz said, both confused and grateful for the formal address from Seteth. The man had never been large on standing on ceremony, but in front of the guards, perhaps he saw reason for it. 

“We can take care of your horses,” Seteth added and a stablehand seemed to pop out of thin air, already praising Shadow for how  _ handsome _ he is, immediately earning the stallion’s good regard. “Your belongings will be delivered to your rooms.”

“Thanks,” Claude said for them both as they dismounted. The two horses were led away, and, after bidding them farewell for the time being, a servant took Seteth’s place and gestured that they follow her.

“Well, that was weird,” Claude muttered. “Did you mention in your letter who I was?”

“No, I used Claude, not Khalid,” Lorenz replied equally quietly. “But we did send an express messenger here with the Fodlanese copy of the treaty for safe-keeping, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Seteth  _ read _ the document. He is nosy enough.”

Claude hummed in agreement, and a thoughtful silence fell as they were led to--of all places--the old dorms. There had been additional construction since Lorenz had last visited, at least two new dorm buildings; an expanded greenhouse, garden, and stables for both the horses and flying mounts; a dedicated archery range; and a specialized lab for magical and Crestological research. Housing for the monks, clerics, and other devotees of the Church of Seiros had also been expanded, along with actual barracks for the rank-and-file knighthood. Claude looked  _ distinctly _ impressed.

“This really has become a bona-fide school, hasn’t it?”

“It is almost its own city, in truth,” Lorenz commented as they were shown into the original dorms, up to the second floor. Even the  _ scent _ of the woodpolish used to clean the floors was nostalgic, and brought back good  _ and  _ bad memories from his days as both a student and during the war, and he caught himself smiling wistfully. 

_ They were simpler times, for all that they were more fraught, _ Lorenz thought. 

A room was unlocked for him by the servant, who said, “There is a spare key for your use in the desk drawer. The dining room will not be open for much longer, so if you want something to eat, I suggest heading off soon.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said and stepped inside the room.

It took a moment to parse why there was a feeling of vertigo when he stepped in the room, but the recognition of a particular stain on the rug that he just  _ hadn’t _ been able to get out made him realize that he was in  _ his old room;  _ and, from the sound of things, Claude had once again been put next door. Lorenz easily found the spare key and tucked it into a pocket; when he turned, it was to find Claude leaning in the doorway.

“So, shall we make our way to dinner, or do you have other plans?” he asked.

There was something in how Claude was blocking the doorway that both stoked anxiety and...anticipation...in Lorenz. It reminded him of all the times his father had caged him in when he was younger and weaker; however, there was an  _ invitation _ in Claude’s eyes, a promise that if Lorenz allowed him in, if they forewent dinner, he wouldn’t regret it.

It was dangerous.

“What  _ other plans _ would I have?” Lorenz asked instead, trying to put as much as incredulity as possible into his tone. “I don’t have any food here, and it isn’t like there is room service.”

“Just because  _ you _ never made friends with the cooks doesn’t mean some of us don’t know how to sneak into the kitchen for a late night snack,” Claude said.

Lorenz shook his head and crossed the small room, stopping just in front of Claude, who still hadn’t moved. Following a wild,  _ stupid _ whim, Lorenz reached out and tilted Claude’s head up ever so slightly, his armored fingers lightly curling around Claude’s chin as he asked, “Are  _ you _ offering to cook for me, Your Royal Majesty?”

“Would you like that?” Claude asked in return, holding Lorenz’s eyes, a small, coy smile blooming on his face; Lorenz hated that his heart skipped a beat at the mental image of him and Claude in a kitchen together, Lorenz  _ finally _ learning to cook with Claude’s aid. 

“Wow, their lines are almost as bad as yours.”

“Oh, come on, I flirt better than that!’

“Felix! Sylvain! Shh!”

The external commentary made Lorenz drop his hand quickly and Claude straightened from his slouched lean against the doorframe as he turned to face Annette, Sylvain, and Felix.

“That’s right, Sylvain and Felix were our neighbors up here, too,” Claude said, the slightest undercurrent of annoyance to his tone. “Were you assigned them as well or just visiting for old times’ sake?”

“Since Felix and I are professors here, we have our own quarters, and Sylvain stays with us when he isn’t taking care of Kingdom business,” Annette said, her face bright red as she looked anywhere but at them. “Dimitri’s room was up here, though, so we were going to leave a little token of remembrance in front of it. It’s...not that far from the date of the Battle of Gronder, so we figured now was as good a time as any to remember him, since no one actually knows where Dedue interred him.”

“It is about that time, isn’t it?” Claude said. “Maybe I’ll leave something for him, too. He deserved a better end.”

Felix scoffed, but it wasn’t hard to see the suppression of hollow, old sadness in how tight his expression was.

“Were you planning on leaving flowers? He never seemed like a man who would like them.”

Annette rifled around in her bag and pulled out a beautiful, well-crafted whetstone. “I saw the merchants selling this in the market one day, and it caught my eye as something he’d like. He was always caring for his weapons, so…”

“A fitting tribute,” Lorenz agreed.

“Well, we should leave so you can honor his memory as you wish,” Claude said.

“I agree--I wouldn’t want to intrude on a private moment more than I already have,” Lorenz said and nudged Claude out of the doorway so he could step out and close it behind him.

Claude walked away as Lorenz compulsively locked the door, but Sylvain brought Lorenz up short before he could follow Claude out of the dorms.

“I don’t know how he found that charming, but you’ve  _ got _ to try harder than that,” Syvlain said in a low voice, his hand firm on Lorenz’s forearm, keeping him in place as Felix and Annette approached the door to Dimitri’s old room. “I’m not as out-of-practice as you might think for a married man, because Felix and Annette both like being flirted with even if they won’t admit it, so--”

“Sylvain, what are you  _ talking _ about?”

“How your game hasn’t improved since our school days,” Sylvain said. “If anything, it’s gotten  _ worse.  _ Rumor around the Monastery is Claude’s a  _ king _ , and that one-liner of yours seemed to confirm it, so you gotta try a little harder to impress  _ royalty _ .”

“...are you accusing me of  _ flirting _ with  _ Claude _ ?’

“Weren’t you?”

“No!” Lorenz protested.

Syvlain looked  _ deeply _ unconvinced. “Both of you had body language that said you were  _ interested _ in each other, and not in the friendship way.”

“Do  _ not _ project your proclivities onto me,” Lorenz hissed and pulled his arm away. 

Sylvain frowned at that, but Lorenz walked away before any more words could be exchanged.

_ Me? Flirting with Claude?! What nonsense! _ Lorenz fumed to himself as he descended the stairs.  _ I think I know what flirting is, and we were  _ not _ flirting with each other. Right? We...we weren’t flirting were we? No, I would have never used that when flirting with a woman, it would have been demeaning to them. Are the rules different for flirting with men? Why do I even care?! _

Claude was waiting outside the door a little, and gave Lorenz a curious look. “What kept you?”

“Sylvain wanted a word, but he was as perceptive as always--that is to say, not at all,” Lorenz said dismissively, shoving down his panic over whether or not he  _ had _ been flirting with Claude.

“Sylvain is smarter than he plays at being.”

“You’re too kind to him.”

“...what did he  _ say _ ?”

“Nothing important,” Lorenz said and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm himself. He was  _ not _ flirting with Claude, there was no need to be agitated over something that wasn’t happening. “Let’s see if there is any food left, hm?”

“Sure thing,” Claude said, clearly not believing Lorenz when he said Sylvain had mentioned nothing of import. “Do you really think there will be anything left?”

“I believe that all depends on how many times Raphael went up for ‘seconds’,” Lorenz said, glad to focus on something else besides the question of:  _ Was I flirting with Claude? _

Claude chuckled at that. “He could always eat. Think age has slowed him down?”

“I suppose we’ll see soon enough, hm?” Lorenz commented as they walked past the softly lapping fishing pond that reflected the bright, full moon, coating the exterior walls of the dining hall in silver. 

“It’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” Claude observed.

“The moon is lovely,” Lorenz agreed. “Is the moon a god or goddess in Almyra?”

“A god, actually,” Claude said with a small smile. “The sun is a goddess. They are married and have twin daughters, the morning and evening stars, who are also responsible for dawn and dusk respectively. The sea has both a god and a goddess, and the mood of the sea dictates which one you pray to, from my understanding based on the sailors I’ve spoken to. A god rules the sky and the heavens while the earth is a goddess, and we--along with all life--are her children. But, like I think I told you, you’re not expected to convert or anything, just to respect our beliefs.”

“It sounds so needlessly complicated,” Lorenz murmured. “But, I promise that I will keep that opinion to myself.”

“Thank you,” Claude said with a small smile. “C’mon, I’m starving.”

Lorenz followed Claude up the stairs to find the dining hall empty of everyone save Leonie, Ignatz, and Raphael, who looked like he still had the same voracious appetite, if the stack of plates beside him was any indication. There were a few servants cleaning the tables and it seemed as if almost all the food was gone, but there were a few morsels left on the hot line.

However, Ignatz noticed them come in and waved at them, which caught the attention of both Raphael and Leonie, who turned to look where Ignatz was. “Hey! It’s been ages!” Raphael called out, his booming voice startling one of the servants into neary dropping the plates she was carrying.

There was an awkward pause, after which Rapahel said in a slightly softer voice, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. My wife says I talk too loud, but I can’t help it, y’know?”

The servant gave a shaky smile and made vague excuses before vanishing into the kitchen area.

“When did you arrive?” Leonie asked once they had made their way over to the table where the trio was seated at. 

“Not too long ago,” Claude said with an easy smile. “We were actually hoping to catch a late dinner.”

“You shoulda said that first!” Raphael said and stood. “Go get food before it’s all taken away!”

Lorenz wasn’t used to being physically  _ moved _ , but Raphael hustled them both over to the remaining hot line, partly so he could ensure they actually got food and partly to stick his head into the kitchen and have a soft conversation that ended in easy laughter from the kitchen staff and a clearly relieved Raphael. 

Lorenz shook his head slightly in amusement as Claude chuckled and they both retrieved the dredges of food before heading back to the table where Ignatz and Leonie were waiting.

“Lorenz told me you two wed,” Claude said once he had settled; Lorenz wasn’t sure what to make of how  _ close _ Claude sat, nor why he felt almost comforted by the feeling of Claude’s foot pressed up against his own. “Congratulations.”

Ignatz’s face promptly turned bright red as Leonie grinned prior to pressing a quick kiss to Ignatz’s cheek. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d have done if he said  _ no _ .”

“You asked him?” Claude asked, seemingly both unsurprised and amused.

“Of course! He was second-guessing himself to heaven and back, so I bought him some blue pigment and proposed with that, since I figured that he’d lose a ring or sell it to  _ buy _ the paint. Damn is blue expensive though.”

Ignatz smiled absently, the expression tender, even if his face was still tomato-red. “I’m still grateful you didn’t ask in public. I don’t think I would have been able to take it,” Ignatz said and took Leonie’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers. Leonie’s expression briefly softened as well before her gaze focused on him (Lorenz) and Claude. 

“So, you two seem closer now,” Leonie said, clearly angling for information--for  _ gossip. _ Lorenz wouldn’t have thought the woman possessed such a feminine predilection, since spending her time amongst and running a mercenary company had only roughened her edges.

“Traveling together gave us the opportunity to work through some of our differences,” Lorenz said. 

Claude nodded in agreement, as he had recently taken a bite of food and had retained enough table manners to not talk with his mouth full. 

“Where have you been all these years?” Ignatz asked Claude, his (Ignatz’s) face slowly returning to its normal shade. “There have been rumors, of course, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

“You mean, you’d like me to confirm or deny the rumor that I’m the king of Almyra,” Claude said with his lop-sided smile after finishing chewing and swallowing his food.

“Well? Are you?” Leonie pressed.

For reasons Lorenz didn’t understand, he caught Claude giving him a brief look that asked whether or not  _ he _ thought it would be a good idea to tell them; Lorenz merely shrugged. It was Claude’s news to reveal, not his.

“Did I miss anything?” Raphael asked as he sat down on the opposite side of Ignatz so the artist was bookended by two much more muscular warriors--it was a funny image, and only years of training in self-restraint kept Lorenz from chuckling. 

“I was about to confirm that, yes, I am the Almyran king,” Claude said, gesturing idly with his fork as he carefully watched them for their reactions.

After a moment’s pause, they all looked various shades of delighted. 

“Really? No wonder you look so good, I bet you get fed really well at a royal palace, right?” Raphael said. “You’ll have to tell me about some Almyran recipes. Bernadetta is a great cook, but I kinda want to return the favor sometime, so maybe making her something Almyran would be a good surprise for our anniversary.”

The soft smile that formed on Claude’s face made Lorenz’s heart hurt for reasons he didn’t understand. “Almyran cooking isn’t that different from Fodlanese, really, just a bit spicier. The language  _ does _ have five different words for  _ spicy _ depending on the level of heat. Maybe I should provide the cooks here with some recipes, too, since if all goes well, Garreg Mach might start accepting Almyran students. Speaking of Bernadetta, where is she?”

“My wife has gotten much more outgoing, but she still likes her solitude to ‘recharge,' and I respect that,” Raphael said. “So, if I know her, she’s probably embroidering in our room and grumbling about having to interact with too many people. You’ll see her tomorrow, though, for certain.”

After that, Claude was quickly drawn into a three-way conversation on all things Almyran, from the kind of art they made to whether or not he would allow Leonie to look for work in his home country since Fodlanese jobs had dried up with peacetime. Normally, Lorenz would have taken steep issue with being ignored, but the others’ questioning of Claude also gave  _ him _ insight on the culture and whatnot, which he needed to know if he was to serve as ambassador.

However, after-travel exhaustion was catching up with Lorenz, and when he could no longer comfortably suppress his yawns, he stood with his tray and said, “I’m going to call it a night.”

“I should, too, then,” Claude said and stood as well. “I’m not going anywhere for a week, so we have plenty of time to catch up. I’ll write out a few recipes for you, Raphael, and I’ll see if I have any examples of Almyran artwork in my bags to show you tomorrow, Ignatz.”

“I look forward to it!” Ignatz said, clearly excited at being able to view artistic techniques that did not easily make it into Fodlan, Raphael also thanking Claude effusively.

Leonie just looked  _ thoughtful _ and gave them both a half-wave as they walked away.

_ A Leonie that quiet always makes me wary, _ Lorenz thought as he dropped off his plates in the kitchen prior to exiting the dining hall. The full moon now hung high in the sky, and the weather was pleasantly cool. 

“I’m glad it was just the three of them tonight,” Claude said. “I don’t think I could have announced to  _ everyone _ that I’m king.”

“Why not?” Lorenz asked, intrigued as they meandered back towards the dorms. “It isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

“No, but…” Claude sighed. “I suppose I worry what they’ll think, that they’ll resent my evasion and lying when we were in school together and during the war.”

“You were  _ mysterious _ and  _ alluring _ , I doubt that anyone will take umbrage to you keeping your status as foreign royalty quiet. I’m sure that, oh, Linhardt will make some laconic statement about how  _ obvious _ it was. If the man had an  _ ounce _ of motivation…”

“When he’s moved to care, he’s quite the force,” Claude semi-agreed. “And if anyone put together my heritage during my time in Fodlan, it would be him.” 

“I suppose you’re lucky that Fodlan was isolationist for so long,” Lorenz said as they climbed the stairs. “What is clear in hindsight never once crossed my mind during school or the war.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have given an honest answer anyway even if someone had brought it up with me,” Claude said. “I wanted to see what I could achieve with the power of my Fodlanese blood, so tried to emphasize that as much as possible while here.”

They reached their rooms, and Lorenz unlocked his door, his body already aching for sleep. However, Lorenz was brought up short by Claude grabbing his wrist, keeping him from entering his old dorm room.

“What is it?” Lorenz asked, heading towards cranky because he was  _ tired _ .

Claude released his wrist only so he could shift his hand to Lorenz’s upper arm as he stepped in close. Lorenz could have sworn he felt the brush of Claude’s fingers through his hair, and for a wild, terrifying second Lorenz was sure that Claude was going to  _ kiss him _ , but after a brief, breathless moment, Lorenz found himself pulled into a tight hug. The contact didn’t last long and Claude stepped back, his hands falling away. 

“Good night, Lorenz,” Claude murmured, not quite looking at Lorenz before he retreated into his borrowed room. Lorenz gave Claude’s closed door a quizzical look before entering his own room, Claude’s body heat somehow  _ lingering _ and leaving Lorenz feeling...strangely happy.

_ It will be weird not sharing space with him, _ Lorenz thought as he began to doff his armor.  _ Still, I suppose it will be nice having some privacy again, and he’s next door, so it isn’t as if he is terribly far away... _


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone who reads, comments, and kudos--your feedback and patronage are deeply appreciated. :)
> 
> Additionally, FE:3H still does not belong to me.

Blind panic swamped Lorenz when he realized he couldn’t hear Claude’s breathing or feel him at his side, and he immediately shot up in the bed, reaching for his magic; it took the bells tolling the hour from the Cathedral to place where he was. 

His heart was beating hard enough that he felt a little light-headed and his breathing came in deep, ragged gulps as he sought to calm himself. An irrational fear still clung to him like a nightmare, insisting that Claude was in danger, even though Lorenz  _ knew _ that they were safe at Garreg Mach. 

_ The walls are thin, I remember hating how he’d mutter to himself when pulling an all-nighter while studying for a test, _ Lorenz thought and shifted on the bed so his ear was pressed to the wall he shared with Claude. His heart was lodged firmly in his throat until he heard a snore, wherein he released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. 

_ He was never a morning person, so I shouldn't...I shouldn’t bother him, but I need some sort of exercise to work off this tension, _ Lorenz thought as he set his feet on the floor, his body feeling almost like it was  _ vibrating _ from residual anxiety. Lorenz quickly donned his armor, exited his room, and, after a moment's fight, knocked lightly on Claude's door. 

The response was a groggy groan of "Five more minutes," in Almyran, and Lorenz was endlessly pleased that he understood. 

"You don't have to join me for practice, but if you want to, I’ll be in the original training yard," Lorenz said through the door. He didn't wait for a response, since hearing Claude speak in Almyran had soothed the dredges of uncertainty.

Lorenz forewent the dining hall and tea for exercise, since he was still shaking slightly; thankfully, the movement was slight enough that none of the students or other denizens of the Monastery seemed to pay him much mind aside from a polite ‘Good Morning.’

Lorenz was not surprised to find himself sharing the training grounds with Felix, Ingrid, Caspar, and Raphael, even though part of him wished he had gotten lucky and no one that he  _ knew _ was present. Thankfully, the four were engaged in their own spars, leaving Lorenz to happily beat up a training dummy with a practice lance. He was, however, surprised when, just as he was nearing the end of his routine, a sword intercepted his strike at a dummy and turned it aside, forcing his attention away from his own practice to a rather annoyed-looking Felix.

“The only reason I’m telling you this is because my spouses were insufferable last night,” Felix said, his voice desert-dry, but quiet enough that only Lorenz would be able to hear. “Figure out your feelings around Claude, because if you don’t do it on your own, they were  _ plotting _ ways to ‘help,’ and I am nearly certain you don’t want the kind of help they were planning.”

Lorenz tensed, but nodded and said, “Thank you for the warning.”

“I’m serious, Gloucester,” Felix said. “Unless you want two well-intentioned romantic fools involving themselves in your love life, get yourself figured out. I must compliment you on your form even when distracted, though. We should spar sometime--I’d like to see if there are any differences in Alliance and Kingdom lance techniques.”

With that, Felix left. 

Lorenz wiped away a trickle of sweat that had begun to wind its way down the side of his face and bit back a sigh.  _ I’d be able to tell Sylvain to mind his own business, but I’d feel bad snapping at Annette, _ Lorenz thought.  _ She’s a lovely woman, and I’d know she means well, but… _

“Felix is a little brusque, so try not to let anything he said get to you. He means well, for the most part,” Ingrid said as she approached, intruding on his thoughts. “How are you faring?”

“As well as can be expected,” Lorenz said. “How about yourself?”

“Much the same,” Ingrid replied with a slight incline of her head. “Word is that you negotiated a treaty with Almyra--I’m impressed. I know the Alliance and Almyra have never had  _ cordial _ relations, much as was the case with Sreng and Faergus. I’m still not entirely sure how you pulled that treaty off. It has made running the Kingdom territories so much easier, not having to worry about an attack from the north.”

Lorenz smiled. “I’m glad to hear that my efforts have made your situation more manageable. And, yes, it’s true--Almyra and Fodlan are now allies.”

“Allies? So, it’s not just a cease-fire?” Ingrid said, looking intrigued. 

“No, we negotiated trade terms as well as military non-aggression,” Lorenz said. “Goddess, though, it was tedious. May I ask you about a rumor I heard about you?”

Ingrid startled. “A rumor? About  _ me _ ? Goodness, what could you have possibly heard?”

“Well, it isn’t just about you, but you and Ashe. Are you wed or merely...close? I remember you mentioning previously that you didn’t intend to marry.”

Ingrid blushed very prettily and twined her fingers in a subtle show of nerves. “It isn’t anything official, but we are partners in all aspects of life. So, we may not have the title of husband and wife, but we are, for all intents and purposes.”

“Congratulations are in order, then,” Lorenz said warmly.

Ingrid smiled faintly, her blush deepening. “It’s rare to see you practicing with your lance without Shadow.”

“I needed to work off some tension,” Lorenz said with a shrug. “I also pushed Shadow hard yesterday, so I wanted to give him a day’s rest. How is Star?”

Star had been the pegasus that Ingrid had ridden during the war, who had always seemed to harbor a peculiar hatred for other pegasi and wyvern, to the point that the mare had to have empty stalls on either side of her, lest she agitate a ruckus. 

“Mellowed,” Ingrid laughed. “She’s now being used as a  _ training _ pegasus for those women interested in becoming pegasus or falcon knights.”

“She always liked people--just not other animals,” Lorenz pointed out.

“True enough,” Ingrid agreed. 

The Cathedral's bells chimed the hour, and once the reverberations faded, Lorenz said, “Classes should be starting soon, so it would probably be wise to clear out. I’m also desperately in need of tea. Will you join me for breakfast?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I promised Ashe I’d have breakfast with him, and he should have woken with those bells. I’ll walk with you to the dining hall, though, if you wouldn’t mind the company.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Lorenz responded. He quickly put away the practice equipment he had borrowed, then fell into step next to Ingrid as they left the practice yard behind.

“Were you already here?” Lorenz asked as they walked leisurely through the swiftly-waking monastery grounds.

Ingrid inclined her head. “I needed to discuss something with the Professor, so had actually arrived at the same time the express messenger from Goneril lands did. I found that Sylvain was also spending time here with his spouses instead of in Gautier lands, so I have been strategizing and discussing Kingdom concerns with him. Harvests continue to be middling, but we’re at least no longer borrowing from the Empire and Alliance foodstocks. Thank you for making your resources available at low cost, by the way.”

Lorenz waved away the thanks. “It was the least I could do, and I am sure Ferdinand said much the same if you thanked him.”

“He did, yes,” Ingrid replied with a small smile. 

“I am sorry to hear that matters are still slightly grim in the Kingdom, however,” Lorenz murmured.

“Things have been  _ grim _ in Fargeus for a long time now,” Ingrid said wryly. “Its land isn’t exactly  _ fertile _ and I’m not sure we ever truly recovered from Duscur and the loss of His Highness, but we do the best we can. If nothing else, the denizens of the Kingdom are resilient.”

“So they are.”

“Speaking of…” Ingrid trailed off before composing herself and saying, “I feel silly asking after so many rumors, but Garreg Mach seems to thrive on them. Is it true? Is Claude actually the Almyran king?”

_ Claude was worried about how Ingrid in particular would react to him being a king, _ Lorenz thought, considering his words. “I do not believe that it is my place to confirm or deny that particular rumor,” Lorenz eventually said. “Claude is not a morning person, but if I see him in the dining hall, I will let him know you asked, and will let him decide on how he wishes to address that particular rumor.”

Ingrid gave him a long, thoughtful look before nodding. “I understand.”

“Pardon?” Lorenz asked, poorly suppressing his confusion at her reaction.

“It’s nice to see that you two have moved past your casual animosity,” Ingrid said. “Will Claude be staying long?”

“From my understanding, he will be staying for a full week, so you will have time to catch up with him, if you want to,” Lorenz said. 

Ingrid chuckled softly. “Catch up with him? I don’t think anyone but the Professor is capable of moving at his pace. He was always looking so far ahead and walking fast enough that it sometimes made me wonder what in his past was nipping at his heels so viciously to make him chase his dreams and goals with such fervor.”

“He still is an ambitious man,” Lorenz semi-agreed. 

“Has he at least become  _ slightly _ more responsible?”

“I think a good part of his behavior here was an act,” Lorenz reluctantly admitted, “meant to make him more likable and approachable. From what little he has told me, he was either shunned or negatively targeted during his childhood,and being an unknown in Fodlan meant he had a chance to...actually make friends.”

Lorenz found his heart  _ aching _ at that realization. He wanted to find Claude and...and  _ hug _ him and apologize for being a bit of a snobbish asshole when his journey into Fodlan was the first time that he likely was able to  _ connect _ with people his age who didn’t immediately hate him. But, he was sure that  _ that _ would worry Claude and make him question Lorenz’s sanity, so Lorenz shoved down the impulse and emotion until he was just left feeling a little rueful and under control again. 

“You’ve spoken with him about his childhood?” Ingrid said, clearly surprised that they would have moved past their pseudo-rivalry to even  _ that _ much intimacy. 

“Ah, I traveled with him here from Fodlan’s Throat,” Lorenz hedged. “We have had plenty of time to talk.”

“... _ just _ you two?” Ingrid asked.

“Well, we wanted to travel light and relatively incognito, so any more people than just us would have stood out,” Lorenz hedged. 

“I suppose that makes sense,” Ingrid said, clearly skeptical. 

An awkward silence hung between them until they parted ways with murmured pleasantries at the dining hall; it was charming, however, to see Ingrid’s more stern expression soften to something like joy upon seeing Ashe. 

Lorenz, however, was lusting after his first cup of tea, and managed to cajole one of the servants into bringing him one of the pre-prepared tea pots. Actual food could wait until the morning rush of students died down to something more manageable. As it was, he had to escape into the courtyard to find a place to sit and drink his tea without being forced to engage in small-talk. It was clearly still too early for him to navigate such treacherous waters as polite conversation, based upon his interaction with Ingrid, at least.

Lorenz let out a heavy sigh once he sat down on a bench, perching the teapot beside him in a very obvious attempt to dissuade other people from bothering him. 

_ “Unless you want two well-intentioned romantic fools involving themselves in your love life, get yourself figured out.” _

Lorenz poured himself a cup of the strong breakfast blend, took a deep breath of the fragrant steam, then sipped as he thought. 

_ Figure out my feelings around Claude, _ Lorenz paraphrased for himself.  _ Exactly what  _ do _ I feel for him? _

Lorenz was not particularly  _ adept _ at self-reflection nor examining his emotions because emotions were  _ uncomfortable _ , and he was familiar with them only when taken to the extreme--both his parents were prone to swinging between potent emotional displays and such cold intellectualism as to come off as emotionless. So, being told to examine what he was feeling was asking him to wade into primarily uncharted waters. 

At the same time, he didn't want Sylvain or Annette becoming involved in trying to play matchmaker between him and  _ Claude _ , because he knew that if Annette was involved, Mercedes would become involved, which would lead to Ignatz, Ashe, and Ferdinand catching wind of the plans, which would then be communicated to Raphael, Ingrid, Leonie, and the Professor; Raphael would likely talk about it to Bernadetta, while Leonie might mention it in passing to Seteth during one of their fishing sessions, and once Seteth was involved, all bets were off because the man was  _ weirdly _ invested in the love lives of the students. Lorenz had the sneaking suspicion Seteth’s interest came from the desire to  _ prevent _ any of the students from entering into a relationship with Flayn.

So, reflection on his emotions and Claude was required because there was  _ no way _ he was getting Seteth involved in matters surrounding his personal relationships. 

_ I’ll send Felix a unique weapon from Almyra as a thank you for the heads-up, _ Lorenz thought as he sipped the tea, looking at nothing in particular as he thought.  _ Now. How do I feel about Claude…? _

“There you are! I knew I had dreampt that you said you were going to the practice yard, of all places.”

Lorenz looked up from staring at his tea pensively; as if the thought had summoned the man, Claude stood a short distance away, looking refreshed. “I did go there for some practice and ran into Ingrid, Felix, Raphael, and Caspsar,” Lorenz said. “I only recently arrived at the dining hall.”

“I don’t see any food,” Claude observed and moved the tea set so he was holding the pot delicately in his lap. “How often have you subsided on tea alone?”

“Not often,” Lorenz said, feeling oddly defensive. “I also wasn’t in the mood to wait in line for my meal.” After a moment’s pause, Lorenz sighed, then said, “Claude.”

“Yeah?”

“I...I would like to apologize.”

Claude blinked. “For what?”

“I have done some thinking, and realized that I was unnecessarily cruel and unfair to you when we first met,” Lorenz said. “Knowing what little you have told me about your childhood, it dawned on me that coming to Fodlan was probably the first time you were reliably able to make friends around your age. I am sure that my hostility did not leave you with a particularly good impression.”

Claude actually  _ smiled _ and said, “Are you kidding me? The fact that people wanted to be friends with me was  _ bizarre _ . That you  _ didn’t _ trust me was familiar and stabilizing. It was due to you  _ not _ immediately liking me that I think I was able to trust the other Golden Deer enough to make friends. People not hating my guts was so strange that for about a week I was convinced that they were all plotting my demise.”

It was Lorenz’s turn to be bewildered. “Truly?”

“The honest truth,” Claude confirmed. “So, thank you for being suspicious of me. Without that, I wouldn't have been able to respond to others’ overtures of friendship.”

Lorenz wasn’t sure how to  _ feel _ about that, because a part of him was reflexively miffed on Claude’s behalf, but he was well aware that being called half-Almyran was a duel-worthy slur in parts of the former-Alliance, so found himself simmering in discontent and scowling at his tea. 

“You know, it’s weird, having someone besides my parents be upset about how I’ve been treated,” Claude said and Lorenz allowed Claude to turn his head to face him (Claude), the worn leather of the man’s gloves smooth against his skin. “And it feels even weirder that it’s  _ you _ . Nice, absolutely, but a little off-putting.”

“I’m sure everyone in our class would be offended on your behalf if they knew,” Lorenz said, barely keeping himself from leaning into Claude’s touch, his hands tightening on his teacup to keep still. 

“I admit, it  _ is _ going to be nice to be surrounded by people who genuinely like me. Too bad I can’t bring you all home with me without people taking it the wrong way, right?” Claude said and let his hand fall away from Lorenz’s face and to his side. “I didn’t think that so many people would respond to the last-minute class reunion request. There’s to be a feast tomorrow, since word is that Dorothea and Petra should arrive sometime late today or early tomorrow.”

“You always enjoyed feasts,” Lorenz replied drolly. “It also doesn’t hurt for the students here to see that the current king of Almyra is a graduate of sorts. It will make them less fearful and wary of future Almyran transfers.”

“I noticed that Seteth has relaxed a number of his stances quite a bit,” Claude said. “There are apparently a number of students from Brigid, Dagda, and Sreng as well as from Fodlan proper.”

“I imagine your influence on the Professor drove some of these changes,” Lorenz said. “After all, such a free mixing was one of your dreams, was it not?”

“Teach really is someone special,” Claude laughed. “Don’t know how they do it.”

“I imagine that containing the power of a progenitor god helps.”

“Probably,” Claude agreed. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“What did the tea do to offend you? You were scowling at it pretty intensely when I found you here.”

“The tea is innocent of any wrongdoing,” Lorenz said. “Felix told me something while I was at the practice yard, and it has given me...food for thought. It was that which I was pondering.”

“Felix?” Claude repeated, then looked thoughtful. “You two never really interacted, so...does this have something to do with whatever Sylvain observed yesterday in the dorms?”

_ I hate how smart he is sometimes, _ Lorenz thought. “Perhaps,” Lorenz hedged.

“Is it anything I can help with?”

_ Not when you’re the ‘problem,’ _ Lorenz mused. “No, but the offer is appreciated. Will we be meeting the Professor today?”

“Hm? Why?”

“To discuss my appointment as the Almyran ambassador.”

“ _ Oh _ . Right. Yeah, we should talk with them about that. I’m sure they’ll grant an audience to former students.”

“I would have phrased it as they wouldn’t be rude enough to avoid foreign royalty.”

“That too, I suppose, but I’d like to lean on prior relationships than current political status,” Claude said and stretched. As if the motion had dislodged something, Claude’s stomach promptly gave a voracious growl that made Lorenz choke back a laugh and Claude’s face flush dark. “Will you join me in the dining hall, or are you going to stay out here?”

“As I think I said previously, I ran into Ingrid, and she mentioned an interest in talking with you,” Lorenz said. “Last I checked, she was having breakfast with Ashe, so if you want to get the discussion of you being the Almyran king over with sooner rather than later with her, now is your chance.”

“...so, you’re staying out here?”

“I need to think, and you’re too distracting for me to think clearly.”

“Distracting, am I?” Claude said, a sly smile forming on his face. “Maybe I should hold your tea hostage so you come and have breakfast with me?”

“I  _ will _ hurt you if you don’t let me have my tea.”

Claude appeared to be struggling not to laugh as he set the teapot down beside him, between him and Lorenz, and held up his hands in mock surrender. “The tea is yours. I suppose I’ll go confront Ingrid now while she’s eating, since she’s usually in a good mood after food.”

“I’ll see about getting us an audience with the Professor. Seteth is usually the person one has to go through, but being friends with Ferdinand has its benefits.”

Claude chuckled at that. “Still acting as a gods-damned gatekeeper, huh? I understand being protective of the Professor and cagey about his own secrets, but does he have to get in the way  _ constantly _ over everything?”

“Hence why I am arranging matters, and not you,” Lorenz said simply. “I will find you once I have a meeting time set up. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult.”

"Oh, is that so?" Claude asked as he stood.

"Yes," Lorenz said. "You have a way of catching people's attention, so I imagine that if I follow the gossip of an Almyran in the monastery--well, an Almyran other than Cyril--I shall find you."

Claude snorted, but a smile wormed its way onto his face. “Hey, Lorenz.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s play a game.”

“A game?” Lorenz repeated, baffled.

“Yes,” Claude confirmed. “Let’s play hide-and-go-seek.”

Lorenz quirked an eyebrow in incredulity. “Really, Claude?”

“Come now, it’ll be fun.”

“You’ll have to explain the  _ rules _ of your game to me.”

“It’s...easy? Have you  _ not _ played hide-and-seek before?”

“No, never.”

“Wait--what? Never?  _ Really _ ? How?!”

“I wasn’t allowed to interact with the servants’ children, have no siblings, and when I saw my friends it was primarily for formal social events,” Lorenz said. “Both my mother and father looked down on such frivolities, so when I wanted to do something fun, they’d take me out to the opera or a play or provide me with novels; I would sometimes go riding on my own, too. As long as I justified it as practicing my horsemanship, they’d allow it.”

Claude muttered something that Lorenz guessed was uncomplimentary about his parents in Almyran, judging from his tone and the carefully neutral expression on his face, before speaking up in Fodlanese: “Alright, well, it’s easy. I’ll pick a place on monastery grounds to hide, and it is up to you to locate me. I won’t hide anywhere that is new construction, and you have only until lunch to find me.”

“Do I get a reward if I successfully find you?”

“I, uh...sure. I can figure out some way to reward you.”

“Consider me motivated, then,” Lorenz said, and didn’t bother to hide a chuckle when Claude’s stomach protested that it was  _ still _ unfed. “Go get your breakfast. I’ll finish my tea and then will speak to Ferdinand about meeting with the Professor. Should I give you some time to find a hiding spot?”

“I’m sure that I’ll find somewhere in the time it takes for you to get a hold of Ferdinand and set up the meeting. You’re not allowed to leave me hanging, though. I expect you to participate.”

“I will find you, Claude, no matter how well you think you’ve hidden,” Lorenz stated. “Although I may let you wait just to give you the time to think of an appropriate reward for me participating in this game of yours.”

Claude’s smile was genuine, and there was something like excitement in his eyes that somehow made  _ Lorenz _ feel warm. “Alright, I’ll be waiting. But, first--breakfast.”

With that, Claude left, disappearing into the open doors of the dining hall. 

Lorenz let out a soft sigh and turned his attention back to his tea. It wasn’t as large a pot as he would use personally, so he figured he had probably around one more cup or so left before he had to go find Ferdinand.

_ What is Claude thinking, though? A game? Hide-and-seek? _ Lorenz thought, shaking his head slightly in something between disapproval and disbelief.  _ We’re roughly the same age, and I’ve never heard of adults playing something so...juvenile. Why’d I even agree? And, what exactly would I like as a  _ reward? _ I suppose it will depend on how difficult it is to find him. If I do so with hardly any issue, then I won’t ask for anything truly substantial. Perhaps...yes, that might work. If I succeed--and I must, given that he has to know whether or not I secure a meeting with the professor--I will ask him to tell me one of his secrets. _

Feeling rather smugly satisfied with himself, Lorenz drank his tea and ignored his feelings, instead reviewing what he remembered of Ferdinand’s training schedule when they had worked together during the war. From what he recalled, Ferdinand usually made use of the morning to train with his steed. Thus, Lorenz’s first stop would be the stables.

After returning the tea pot and catching sight of Claude in a discussion with Ashe, Ingrid, Ignatz, and Leonie, Lorenz slipped away in search of Duke Aegir. Ferdinand, thankfully, retained his habits, so Lorenz arrived in the stables just as the other man returned from putting his stallion--Grace, of all names--through his paces. 

“Lorenz, I heard you had arrived, but it pleases me to see you well,” Ferdinand said as he dismounted, and Lorenz couldn’t quite suppress a smile. It was nice to see his friend.

“You seem in good spirits, too,” Lorenz said and bowed to Grace, who nodded imperiously back. 

“I do not think this meeting is a coincidence, however. Do you wish to speak of something?” Ferdinand observed. 

“I do have something I’d like to discuss, yes.”

“Come. Talk with me while I tend to Grace.”

Ferdinand led his horse to his stall and promptly began to remove the equipment and clean him up after what seemed like must have been a rigorous practice. 

“I was wondering if your spouse could set aside some time for a meeting with Claude and I,” Lorenz said as he leaned on the outside of the stall. 

“Oh? Has there been some development regarding the treaty?” Ferdinand asked, looking slightly concerned.

“After a fashion,” Lorenz said. “Claude wishes for me to serve as the Fodlanese ambassador to Almyra and I am willing to perform such a service, but your spouse would need to approve such an appointment.”

Ferdinand was silent for a moment, then nodded. “I can not see that being a problem. Perhaps we could all have lunch together and discuss such matters then. I do not think that my love has any lunch appointments. Admittedly, even if they did, I think they would cancel previous plans in favor of spending time with former students.”

Lorenz couldn’t help but chuckle softly. 

“Lorenz?”

“Oh, I simply find it amusing that you and Claude would put it the same way,” Lorenz said. “When we discussed meeting with the Professor about my appointment, he referenced the Professor meeting  _ former students _ as well, not the meeting of two world leaders.”

Ferdinand smiled faintly and said, “They both have a different way of looking at the world than you or I, Lorenz. My love was a commoner before they ascended, and Claude has always seemed to have a unique way of approaching things. It is no wonder they get along so well. I thank my lucky stars every day that my love chose  _ me _ over all the other suitors who vied for their attention.”

“Claude did mention to me that he had considered proposing to the Professor but that you had gotten to them first,” Lorenz said.

Ferdinand let out a relieved sigh. “I am grateful that men as smart as he overthink things and thus delay their plans until they are confident in their odds of success.”

“Indeed,” Lorenz hedged. “Thank you for agreeing to set up the lunch meeting. I know you both are likely very busy people--”

Ferdinand waved away Lorenz’s words. “There is no need for thanks. Incidentally, we should set up a tea time for just you and I. It has been too long since we enjoyed a cup together.”

“So it has,” Lorenz agreed. “I still have some tea left in my personal supplies, but I’d rather save that for the road. Might we use some of the Monastery’s tea supply?”

“Of course,” Ferdinand replied. “Today and tomorrow are both fairly busy, so, perhaps two days from now?”

“I would be delighted to have tea with you the day after tomorrow,” Lorenz confirmed with a smile. 

“Wonderful,” Ferdinand replied with a smile in return. “For now, please come by the Archbishop's suite around noon for the lunch meeting. We can take our meal on the terrace. I enjoy the view and the fresh air.”

“Sounds delightful,” Lorenz said. “I’ll pass on the information to Claude. I will see you then.”

“Until lunch,” Ferdinand agreed with a farewell bob of his head, Lorenz leaving the stables to locate Claude.

_ Now, if I were Claude, where would be the  _ last _ place anyone would think to look for me? _ Lorenz mused. _ Certainly not the library, he seemed to live in there as much as Lysithea or Linhardt. That would be the  _ first _ place to look, so he won’t be there. I don’t remember ever finding him in the training yard unless Raphael or Ingrid dragged him there, so I suppose I could check there. It won’t take long to check the fishing pond and the older section of the greenhouse, and I don’t recall ever finding him there, either. I  _ did _ recommend to him that he pay the Cathedral a visit, if only to see Ignatz’s work, so he might be there. _

A surprisingly dogged part of Lorenz  _ insisted _ that Claude would be waiting at the Goddess Tower, so he decided that the structure counted as part of the Cathedral and he would check it out while he was there. So, he would go through the main building of the monastery, stop off briefly in the fishing pond, greenhouse, and old training yard, and then head to the Cathedral.  __

Lorenz still had  _ plenty _ of time before lunch, so took his time wandering through the old parts of the Officer’s Academy, peeking in on classes--Manuela was assigned to the ‘Golden Deer’ House that year, Hanneman took care of the ‘Black Eagles,’ and Annette was in charge of the ‘Blue Lions;’ it had apparently been easier to just keep the old House names than come up with new ones. 

Manuela caught sight of him poking his head in, and treated him to a winning smile. "Lorenz! It been a while, hasn't it? Care to help a friend?"

"It would be my pleasure," Lorenz lied as he stepped into the classroom. He had recently gotten Manuela in trouble with her husband, since he (Lorenz) shared his poetry with her and it had been confused for love letters. It hadn't been a major brouhaha, and they had all laughed about it once the air was clear, but he still felt a bit guilty. So, while he was a little leery of helping to _ teach, _ it was the least he could do as penance. 

"We are doing some basic magic practice, but I've never been as good with black magic, so maybe you can demonstrate for my students what kind of magic they could expect to wield as a Dark Knight," Manuela said as he moved to her side. "Class, this is Count Gloucester. He'll be helping us for this lesson, so do pay attention."

Appealing to Lorenz's pride and title was the easiest way to get him to do anything, so with his reputation and prestige on the line, Lorenz was, perhaps, more patient and thorough than he would have been otherwise.

Once he had assisted with demonstrations and dredged up what theory he remembered from study sessions with Lysithea to explain why his magic worked the way it did, he excused himself and headed to check the rest of the monastery proper for Claude. 

Claude was nowhere to be found in the older sections of the greenhouse--where he ran into Bernadetta--or the fishing pond--where he saw Alois scaring the fish away with his shouting as Leonie and Seteth watched, bemused with half-full baskets beside them; neither was Claude in the training yard, where Caspar was attempting to "help" Felix--to the former-Kingdom noble's irritation--while Linhardt somehow managed to doze in a unoccupied corner of the yard. So, Lorenz made his way to the Cathedral. The paintings and sculptures were breathtaking as always, even if the goddess  _ did _ bear more than a passing resemblance to the Professor, which made it mildly uncomfortable to look at that fresco. Still, Lorenz enjoyed how much  _ quieter _ the Cathedral felt after the bustle of the school and its surroundings.

He caught sight of Mercedes, Flayn, and Ignatz talking quietly as the Choir Director conducted the day's practice, but since they didn't look his way and he wasn't _ desperate _ to find Claude yet, he kept quiet. The Cathedral wasn't  _ that _ large, but he would scour that first before exploring its environs. 

Lorenz finally located Claude in the antechamber that held the statues of the Four Saints, the man glaring rather balefully at the one of Saint Cichol, hidden from view by sheer virtue of how the room was arranged.. There was a certain  _ relief _ in not finding Claude at the Goddess Tower, although a part of Lorenz was strangely disappointed.

“I suppose it is easier to glare at the statue than the man himself, since it begs fewer uncomfortable questions,” Lorenz said, coming up beside Claude, gently placing a hand on Claude’s shoulder. 

Claude startled, then laughed. “Congrats, I guess. You found me, and it doesn’t seem like you were too concerned about locating me, huh? Guess I should have tried harder.”

“It was merely a matter of thinking where I would be least likely to find you naturally,” Lorenz said. “I’ve thought of what I want as my reward.”

“Oh?”

Lorenz leaned in and whispered, “Tell me one of your secrets.”

Claude tensed, so Lorenz quickly leaned back and said, “If that makes you too uncomfortable...”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Claude said, stretching so his shoulders audibly popped and crackled. “A secret, huh?”

“You seem to have a plethora of them, parting with  _ one  _ shouldn’t be too hard,” Lorenz said. “You needn’t tell me it right now, though. We’re to have lunch with the Professor and Ferdinand, and it’s close to that time, so we should get going. It will be a private audience on the Archbishop’s Terrace.”

“Thanks for setting that up,” Claude said with a small smile. “Let’s be off, then.”

Lorenz and Claude fell easily into step with each other, although Lorenz was mildly alarmed by how he simply seemed to  _ gravitate _ towards Claude.

“Why were you giving Seteth such a stink-eye?” Lorenz asked once they were out of the Cathedral proper.

“Hm? Oh, the statue,” Claude said. “I made the mistake of talking to him and we--predictably--politely butted heads.”

“What did you speak of?”

“I wanted to see just how obstinate he would be about letting me have an audience with Teach, since you mentioned he’s the one most people have to go through. He made polite excuses about how even foreign dignitaries have to be respectful of the Sovereign's time and energy and he’d get back to me later about when the next slot for an audience opens up, with the strong insinuation that it might not if I keep being annoying about it.”

“He  _ is  _ centuries old, so I suppose it makes sense that he’s incredibly crotchety.”

Claude actually burst out laughing, which earned him more than one curious look. “Sorry, it’s just...the mental image is funny.”

“Oh?”

“When you put it like that, I couldn’t help but see Seteth as one of the older Almyran governors, stooped and waving a cane, yelling about disrespectful youngsters.”

Lorenz choked back a laugh into quiet snickers.

After ambling together in companionable silence for a while, they eventually stepped out into the third floor hallway on the main building of Garreg Mach--the door was already open--to find the Professor waiting for them just outside the Archbishop’s suite. The smile the Professor treated them to was small, but genuine. “Lorenz, Claude. It’s been a while.”

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Lorenz said with a polite bow.

Claude, of course, simply went up and hugged the professor, who looked momentarily surprised before hugging him back.

“It is good to see you again,” Claude said, sincerity lacing his voice as he let go. “You look well.”

“I’m kept busy, although I imagine that as a king, you would have some understanding,” the Professor said and gave his upper arms a visible squeeze before letting go and gesturing towards the terrace. “Your timing is perfect, since lunch has just finished being brought up here. Everyone in the monastery now knows someone Important is visiting now, though.”

“You don’t take lunch with just anyone, huh?” Claude said as they followed the Professor out to the Terrace, where Ferdinand was fussing with the final touches on the set-up. 

“It’s the one meal I take either alone or only with my love,” the Professor commented, a blush gracing their cheeks as Ferdinand pulled out the seat for them then placed a kiss to their temple prior to taking a seat immediately beside them, close enough for their knees to touch. “Otherwise, I’m fairly visible around the monastery.”

“As long as Seteth doesn’t corner you and keep you in the Audience Chamber,” Ferdinand commented.

The professor sighed. “Seteth means well.”

“Seteth was controlling when he served Rhea, I’m not surprised he still seeks to limit access to you,” Claude commented dryly as he and Lorenz took seats across from Ferdinand and the Professor. Before them was a slightly more lavish meal than Lorenz was used to seeing in the dining hall, but the dining hall also needed to create a lot of food for a lot of people, so it wasn’t surprising that there would be a difference in quality between what the students and faculty were served and what was given to the Fodlanese sovereign.

To Lorenz’s delight, there was also an extra-large teapot with what smelled like high-quality Rose Blend tea, and Ferdinand gave him a knowing smile, clearly having caught sight of Lorenz’s notice. 

“So, my love mentioned that you wanted to discuss the matter of an ambassador to Almyra?” the Professor said after Lorenz had poured tea for himself and Ferdinand, while both the professor and Claude demurred, opting instead for a light fruit wine that had been provided as well.

“Yeah,” Claude said. “I was also thinking that perhaps you could open the Academy to Almyran students? Both would be good ways of reinforcing cordial relations between our countries.”

“We would be delighted to have Almyran students,” the Professor said after taking a sip of the wine. “Do you have an Almyran ambassador in mind?”

“I have someone willing to serve, yes, as well as a few students,” Claude said. “I left them in Goneril territory with Holst. I figured it would be good for them to get a feel for Fodlan and its culture while still being close to home. That Holst and Nader are occasional drinking buddies helps. I’ll send a letter back to Holst asking him to have them escorted here now that I know they are welcome.”

The Professor chuckled at the mention of Nader and Holst’s friendship. “Is that so? Am I right in thinking you also have a Fodlanese diplomat in mind as well?”

“Considering Lorenz’s distinguished record of service as a diplomat, having smoothed over relations with Sreng and Dagda as well as having successfully negotiated a historic treaty between Almyra and Fodlan, I feel he would be an ideal candidate for the Fodlanese diplomat,” Claude said, his demeanor shifting to serious. “While we were traveling here together, he never once expressed any sort of disparagement towards my homeland, instead requesting and participating in lessons in spoken Almyran and asking insightful questions regarding Almyran culture. I feel that he will treat all my people courteously, if only because he expressed a desire to master Almyran etiquette. The prejudices many of my people harbor against the Fodlanese people run deep, but I think they come primarily from misunderstanding. I believe that, out of anyone whom I trust, Lorenz could prove successful in combating these prejudices. Thus, I would ask that you lend him to me, even though he has done so much good for Fodlan as a whole. I know he is likely irreplaceable and invaluable to you, but I’d appreciate it if you could do me this one favor.”

The Professor took a sip of the wine, clearly mulling over what Claude had said. Lorenz, meanwhile, was trying not to preen too obviously. Of  _ course _ he was irreplaceable, and having his achievements laid out--not just a treaty, but a  _ historic _ one--was gratifying. It hadn’t been easy, but when given the opportunity, Lorenz had clearly and effectively distinguished himself.

“What are your thoughts, Count Gloucester?” The Professor--no, the Fodlanese Sovereign--asked Lorenz, fixing him to his seat with their pale green gaze.

Every now and then, Lorenz could  _ feel _ the weight of power, of a  _ goddess _ in the Professor’s gaze, and it always left him both uneasy and...not quite aroused, but he had been raised to respect and revere power, and the Professor had that in spades. The only reason  _ he _ hadn’t asked for their hand was because he had been distracted by assuming power as Count Gloucester after the injury and subsequent abdication of his father. 

However, the Professor’s question required an honest answer. 

“If it would please Your Serene Excellency, I would be honored to serve Fodlan in such a way,” Lorenz said. “I would not leave the Alliance leaderless, however, so was planning to speak to Marianne and Lysithea about one of them taking the reins in my stead and bringing them up-to-date on the status of everything, pending your approval of my assignment. You know I will do my absolute best to do well by Fodlan and bring us honor. His Royal Majesty also did not overstate or embellish my accomplishments--all of your advisors thought we were crazy for even attempting a treaty with Sreng, and yet I was successful at negotiating a mutually beneficial agreement between our nations. If anyone is a worthy representative of Fodlan to another nation, it is I.”

The Professor nodded slowly, the motion not a confirmation of his appointment, but an acknowledgement of his words. “Tell me about the summit with Almyra--both of you,” they said. “I read the treaty, and was impressed, but I’d like to hear how the event actually went.”

It was interesting, hearing how the Almyran delegation viewed the summit and its result, and Lorenz was relieved to discover that they had found the Gonerils’ hospitality warm and more than sufficient. 

Lunch passed surprisingly quickly, the food seeming more to disappear than be eaten, and while Lorenz was well aware that he more-or-less monopolized the tea, it seemed to neither surprise nor bother anyone attending. Lorenz only  _ barely _ kept himself from chuckling when Seteth arrived to retrieve the Professor for one thing or another and found them taking lunch with Lorenz and Claude. Claude’s expression was deliberately neutral, but Lorenz knew him well enough now to see the subtle triumph in his posture, although he was wise enough to not comment as Seteth and the Professor had a brief, quiet conversation, Seteth eventually leaving with a few signed papers in hand. 

“I trust you, Lorenz,” the Professor said after a moment’s silence. “You will do well by Fodlan. Please arrange everything as needed to transfer power in the Alliance, and let me know once everything is in place. I’m counting on you.”

“I will not let you down,” Lorenz said firmly.

That earned him a smile from the Professor as they said, “I know you won’t.”

That simple expression of belief was, perhaps, more motivating than anything else the Professor could have said. Lorenz  _ would _ do well by Fodlan, he’d be the ideal diplomat, the Professor would never be disappointed with his service.

“Thank you,” Lorenz said, strangling his overflowing emotions into something resembling behaving. 

“Unfortunately, you have finished all the tea and duty calls,” the Professor sighed. “We have preparations to make for Dorothea and Petra’s arrival, and then there are logistics to be considered for the celebration tomorrow; after all, it is quite rare to have the royalty of three different nations in the same place at the same time. This peace and cooperation must be celebrated and protected.”

“Naturally,” Lorenz said. “We will leave you to your work, then.”

“We try to attend dinner with the students,” Ferdinand said as they all stood together. “So, we will likely see you there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Claude said with a lop-sided smile. “See you both then.”

They exited the Terrace together, servants almost immediately sweeping in to clean up; the speed of their descent seemed to startle the Professor slightly, who murmured something that Lorenz didn't quite catch but which made Ferdinand chuckle and press a kiss to their temple. They split ways on the second floor, the Professor and Ferdinand heading towards the Audience Chamber while Lorenz and Claude continued down the stairs.

“Well, that went well,” Lorenz said. “I’ve been approved by the professor as the ambassador. It is truly settled.”

“Yeah,” Claude said, and rubbed the back of his neck. “One less thing to worry about.”

“You needn’t come with me to Gloucester territory, you know,” Lorenz said as they made their way down the stairs. “I probably won’t be there long, just enough to get matters in order. I can meet you back here or at Fodlan’s Locket.”

Claude blinked, then snorted and said, “I’m not worried about seeing your father. I know how to deal with the hostility of men like him.”

“Then are you worried because you’ve been away from Almyra?”

“I suppose. I trust my parents, but I have to wonder what kind of plotting is going on that I will have to meet when I get back.”

“As I said, there’s no need for you to remain here if it would serve you better to return to Almyra…”

“Yes, but, like I think I told you, I’m staying away from Almyra for a while to help tempers cool. Dad also jokingly said he’d do a bad job at ruling so people would be grateful for my return. I’m not sure that will work like he wants, but anything is worth a try to stop all the gods-damned assassination attempts.”

The mention of people actively paying others to make attempts on Claude’s life made it suddenly hard for Lorenz to breathe.

“Our problems are going nowhere,” Lorenz agreed, shaking his head slowly in an attempt to clear it of the sudden flood of irrational fear. “I’m curious about the greenhouse’s extension. Do you want to take a look at it with me?”

“Sure, why not?” Claude said, stretching as they turned their feet towards the new construction. “I know there are plants from Duscur and Brigid, but perhaps I should send a few samples from the interior of Almyra. We have some interesting types of plants.”

“What is the weather like in Almyra?”

“We have every kind of weather imaginable,” Claude sighed. “And we’ll likely run into it when traveling to the capital, which is in the center of the country.”

“Not a port?” Lorenz asked, intrigued.

“It’s on a river that nearly bisects the country,” Claude said. “But I think it was settled there because it meant everyone would have to travel an equal distance, and  _ that _ likely mattered more than anything else. It’s also in one of the few areas that has actual fertile ground--which is the only reason no one has ever attacked the capital directly. No one wants to make a mess of what little farming territory we possess.”

“So, I should expect that we will be doing a lot of trading in grain and other foodstuffs with Almyra?” Lorenz asked.

“Probably,” Claude said. “I’m sure this will introduce the Almyran people to plenty of new staple foods, and am  _ grateful _ for that.”

The greenhouse was predictably humid, and there were a few students busy tending to the various plants. However, both Claude and Lorenz knew the old types of flowers, so wandered deeper, the tint of the light changing as the age of the glass changed. While everything was kept impeccably clean, the weather and time nevertheless extracted their own toll on the building. 

Lorenz was admiring an unfamiliar flower bush in the new wing of the greenhouse when Claude took in a long, steadying breath and let out a heavy sigh. “Lorenz.”

“Yes?” Lorenz replied, straightening and turning to face him.

“I owe you a secret, don’t I?” Claude asked, looking at him. 

“Pardon?” 

“As your reward for finding me, you requested a secret,” Claude said. “Most of my secrets aren’t particularly interesting anymore, but I do have one I’ve been keeping fairly close, although I’m sure you’ve picked up on it at least a little. I  _ have _ attempted to be less subtle than I normally would be.”

Lorenz waited.

Claude sighed  _ again _ and muttered something in Almyran, clearly ill-at-ease. 

“You can tell me an irrelevant secret,” Lorenz said, and didn’t bother to stop a small smile. “Like the teddy bear one.”

Claude cracked a weak smile at that before shaking his head. “No, I should...I should tell you. It’s eating at me, and I want to tell you, I’m just...not entirely certain how you’ll react if I’m blunt about it, since heavily  _ implying _ it didn’t work. At the same time, I don’t want to scare you away.”

Lorenz scoffed. “Scare me? Really, Claude, give my fortitude some credit.”

“I do, not everyone can take an arrow to the shoulder and treat it like an annoyance. Your emotional fortitude, however…”

“Well, there is only one way to find out if my courage will fail me.”

“True,” Claude agreed. “Fine. Here we go.” 

Claude turned and stepped in close to Lorenz so they were literally toe-to-toe, and he reached up to twine his fingers through Lorenz’s hair and cup his head, forcing Lorenz to make and maintain eye contact. Claude cleared his throat, then said, “The secret that has been slowly killing me is that I’m attracted to you, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.”

“Attracted to me?” Lorenz repeated, not quite sure how to interpret how he felt at such an unambiguous statement, particularly in light of previous discussions.

“Yes,” Claude said, his voice slightly tight. “I am physically and emotionally attracted to you. And I...I would  _ swear _ that you’re attracted to me, too, but every time I think we’re getting somewhere, you flinch and pull away. I initially thought you were being  _ coy _ , but it’s not that--you can be a dick, but you’re not cruel.”

“Claude...” Lorenz asked, his face slowly heating. Hearing that from Claude was both thrilling and terrifying: thrilling because  _ no one _ had ever said such a thing to him (Lorenz) so bluntly before, terrifying because it was coming from  _ Claude _ , the very last person he should want it to come from. “I…”

“Will you answer a question for me, Lorenz?” Claude asked, still not looking away even if it was clearly paining him. 

“I suppose it depends on the question.”

“Are you…” Claude’s voice caught, and he had to swallow before he could speak again. “ _ Are _ you attracted to me?”

There was something stereotypically romantic about being surrounded by flowers while having someone confess attraction, but Lorenz felt suddenly  _ overwhelmed _ by it all, memories of his one other catastrophic brush with romantic attraction choking him. 

_ Am I attracted to Claude? _

“I can’t be,” Lorenz forced out in a rough whisper. 

“Lorenz--”

“ _ I _ am Count Gloucester, and  _ you _ are the Almyran king. We both have certain, inescapable responsibilities, so it doesn’t matter if I am attracted to you or not. Nothing can come from it, quite literally.”

“I disagree.”

“Do  _ you _ have a womb that I am unaware of?”

“People can have relationships without having children.”

“Not people of our station.”

“Lorenz,” Claude sighed, his thumbs lightly stroking Lorenz’s cheeks in a subtle show of agitation. “I know you write grand, romantic poetry--anyone could tell that you wrote the ‘lyrics’ for some of the ‘new’ songs that Professor Manuela would sing time to time during church service. Don’t you desire that for yourself as well? Don’t you  _ want _ that kind of passion in your life?”

“You don’t  _ understand _ ,” Lorenz said, his stomach flip-flopping uncomfortably as he tried to convince himself he didn’t enjoy the caresses. “What I  _ want _ doesn’t matter. What I  _ desire _ is unimportant. Romance, passion--they are a luxury, a fantasy for other people. Nobles must be more pragmatic about their relationships. I will do what is best for my House and my country. ”

“What kind of life is  _ that _ ?” Claude asked. “You’re damn right I don’t understand. Explain to me why anyone would live their life like that?”

“Because the strength and stability of a nation is far more important than a single person’s wants. As a noble, you must sacrifice some of your happiness to ensure the happiness and prosperity of those you rule.”

Claude shifted so they were nearly flush to each other, dangerously deep in Lorenz’s personal space, close enough that they were breathing the same air, and Lorenz was hyper-aware of every point of contact. The sorrow in Claude’s eyes was confusing as Lorenz’s hands went to Claude’s hips, holding him in place.

“Claude?” Lorenz asked, wary.

“Is that truly what you believe, Lorenz?” Claude asked, his voice low and soft enough that Lorenz had to almost strain to hear him. 

“Yes?” Lorenz responded, mildly incredulous. “You should  _ know _ these things to be true--you’re a  _ king _ .”

“Except they’re  _ not _ true. My parents are madly in love with each other,” Claude said. “Mom renounced her Fodlanese inheritance because she met my father. My father risked his ascension to marry a foreigner. Even while ruling the Almyran people, they were genuinely happy, and their happiness brought others joy as well. If a  _ king _ is allowed to be happy...why shouldn’t you be?”

Lorenz shook his head slowly. “Almyra and Fodlan have wildly different standards for behavior of the ruling class.”

“But there is no need to  _ cling _ to those outdated standards,” Claude said. “Things are changing, Lorenz, and the unrealistic expectations you have about what it means to be a  _ noble _ can be one of those things.”

“Would you get rid of  _ all  _ traditions in your quest for a new world?”

“Only the traditions that serve no good,” Claude responded firmly. “And the Fodlanese interpretation of nobility--particularly among those with the Ten Elites bloodlines--does no one  _ any _ good. The pressure put on Ingrid, on Sylvain, on Mercedes, on you--on  _ all _ of the Crest-bearing nobles--to marry and have kids above all else is sickening. You should be allowed to be happy, not just...not just be seen as vectors for a Crest.”

Lorenz couldn’t stop his breath from catching at that, because he had wondered, on darker, lonelier days, if, beneath all the trappings and obligations of nobility, that was all he was. He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on that, though, since it usually only led to him feeling hollow and listless, neither of which he liked. 

“Teach is changing things in Fodlan--so many relationships that would have been looked down upon or regarded as taboo are being sanctioned,” Claude continued. “Ashe, a commoner, inherited the Gaspard territory, and he and Ingrid are more or less  _ married _ . That means a noble and a  _ commoner _ , a man who used to be a thief, not only fell in love, but decided to buck all the social norms of the former-Kingdom and commit to each other.”

Lorenz’s shoulders dropped, even the light pressure placed by Claude’s forearms resting on them feeling like someone dropped the bag of rocks Raphael would sometimes use to train on his back. “Claude, not everything can be changed by sheer willpower. It is...unusual, but not unheard of for someone to achieve the rank of noble through adoption or achievement, and also keeps new blood circulating amongst the nobility, which would otherwise grow inbred and stale. But nothing can change the reality of our bodies and what they are--or are not--capable of.”

“Lorenz?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever lived for yourself?”

“...pardon?”

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been caged by the expectations and actions of your family,” Claude said, idly playing with a strand of Lorenz’s hair. “You’re either trying to please an unpleasable person or attempting to rewrite the narrative around your family so that people remember the good  _ you  _ are doing and not the awful things your father pulled in the pursuit of power and out of spite against my family. So, again--have you ever lived for yourself, Lorenz? And if you  _ did _ choose to do that, what would you do?”

That seemingly simple question opened up a world of  _ what ifs _ that left Lorenz light-headed with the possibilities. 

“I...am not sure,” Lorenz answered breathlessly, hating the uncertainty in his voice. “My life is dictated by my status as a noble as much as by my family’s past actions and current opinions.”

“If your father died today, what would you do?”

“Claude, you’re not suggesting--”

“I’m suggesting nothing,” Claude interrupted. “I’m asking a question. If your parents were suddenly out of the picture, what would you do with your life? Would you always bring yourself up short trying to fulfill the expectations imparted to you by a ghost? Or would you break them? What is  _ freedom _ to you?”

“I…” Lorenz’s voice came out weak due to how much trouble he was having with doing something as simple as  _ breathing _ . 

“If you were free to live your life however you wanted, what would you choose to do?” Claude asked.

“ _ If _ I were free of my obligations to not just my family, but to Fodlan, I would...I’m not certain,” Lorenz said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Although I suppose one thing I would do would be discover which narratives I was told throughout my life were false.”

“Like?” Claude prompted.

Anticipation and  _ tension _ wound between them, and Lorenz stood on the edge of a  _ potential _ that he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross. If he gave voice to his curiosities, to the circular musings that led to painful hope, to the dangerous dreams that had haunted his nights, there would be no going back. Not until he found out where such deviance would lead, and if it was worth it. 

“Claude, I think...” Lorenz swallowed hard to work moisture back into his mouth before trying again: “I think I may--”

“Hey, what’re you all doing hiding here?” 

Raphael’s voice shattered the tension into being simply  _ awkward _ , although what made things  _ worse _ was the multiple voices scolding and hushing Raphael--Lorenz was pretty sure he caught Hilda, who had apparently arrived safely at the Monastery, saying something about  _ a breakthrough moment _ \--followed by the sound of something very heavy being dragged quickly away as Raphael professed utter confusion as to why they were angry with him. 

As their voices grew weaker, the silence between Lorenz and Claude stretched out to its breaking point, upon which they both started to inexplicably  _ laugh _ .

“That’s the Golden Deer for you,” Claude sighed fondly once their laughter dwindled away.

Lorenz hummed in agreement, well aware that his face was probably as red as the flowers he favored. 

“So...you were going to say something?” Claude said after a beat of amused silence. 

Lorenz cleared his throat, then shook his head and said, “Perhaps this conversation is better held somewhere a little more private.”

“Are you inviting me back to your room?”

The suggestive tone Claude used and how he leaned into Lorenz’s body, pressing against him made Lorenz’s breath catch--and then prompted a revelation that sent his stomach to his heels.

“You’ve been flirting with me this entire time,” Lorenz stated.

“Yes, I have!  _ Finally!” _ Claude said, somewhere between irritated and amused. “Took you long enough.”

_ Oh, no. Have I been flirting back?  _ Lorenz wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that, so said instead: “We’re both men. Why did you even  _ attempt _ to flirt with me?”

“Because, like I said, I’m attracted to you,” Claude responded. “You know, the tenants of Seiros say many things, but they don’t say anything bad about how I feel for and about you. There are no laws against it, either. Teach even bent the rules to nearly breaking in order to let Sylvain, Annette, and Felix all marry each other.”

“That is all true,” Lorenz admitted reluctantly. “While nothing in the tenants of Seiros say it’s wrong, I didn’t even  _ know _ such affection could be shared between men until I attended the Officers Academy. Honorable, upstanding nobles have wives and produce children to carry the bloodline. For my entire childhood and adolescence, that was the  _ only _ option provided to me. Marriage to a woman was my duty, obligation, and destiny. I...did try to rebel a little by considering marriage a  _ partnership _ of mutual respect, but personal feelings were secondary to ensuring benefit to our House.” 

Lorenz laughed quietly, sadly. “I feel sorry for all the women I interacted with during our time here. They were a goal, not people, nobles and commoners alike. I had to determine their  _ suitability _ , not whether or not I actually cared for them. Goddess, I was awful, wasn’t I? The Professor was right to take me to task over my behavior.”

“You--wait, you didn’t know men could be attracted to each other?” Claude asked, clearly flabbergasted. “How? You’re not  _ stupid, _ surely if a man and a woman can be attracted to each other, you could extrapolate from there.”

Lorenz shrugged. “My parents controlled my life until I went to attend the School of Sorcery. What I learned, who I interacted with, every aspect of my day was carefully curated so I could become the perfect nobleman. If I was obnoxious  _ here _ at the Academy, I was ten times worse at the School of Sorcery due to being released without constant supervision into society for the very first time. However, it was a taste of freedom, and was what made me more-or-less beg my father to enroll me at the Officer’s Academy.”

“Damn,” Claude muttered. “I never liked dealing with your father during the roundtables, but my distaste for him has increased with each new torture I learn he put you through.”

“Torture? He was--”

“Only trying to do right by you? Yeah, no. It explains  _ so much _ , though, knowing that he abused you like that.”

“Abused?” Lorenz repeated, anger creeping to his words. “Preposterous.”

Claude shook his head. “Say what you will.” Claude took a deep breath, then let it out in a gusty sigh. “Dear gods, you make so much more  _ sense _ now. Both your behavior during our time as students and during the war  _ and _ now. I couldn’t fathom how or why you were so resistant to me flirting with you while we were traveling. I wasn’t being  _ subtle _ .”

Lorenz could feel himself blushing, and cleared his throat as he said, “I...honestly didn’t know. I thought you were just being nice, or trying to bridge our history, or any number of other things.”

“Well, I feel better now about my failures,” Claude muttered. “Then, all the times I thought that  _ you _ were flirting, were really…?”

“Anything you may have questioned as flirtatious was never  _ meant  _ in that way.”

“But, the double-meanings in some of what you  _ said _ \--”

“Were meant innocently,” Lorenz said and removed his hands from Claude’s hips. “Claude--no, Khalid.”

“Y-yes?”

“Do not take this the wrong way, but I need some time to think,” Lorenz said, crossing his hands at the wrist behind his back, because it was taking all his willpower to not touch Claude. “This is not a rejection. It’s a…”

“A challenge?” Claude offered, sounding slightly hopeful even as he pulled his own hands back. “It’s a challenge to your beliefs and you need some time to mull everything over, yes?”

Lorenz nodded, his shoulders dropping slightly in relief. “Exactly. We’ll be here for a while longer, and during that time I want you to give me time to think. I’m sure that everyone else will be more than happy to spend time with you and catch up. When I leave for Gloucester lands--will you still be coming with me?” 

“Absolutely.”

Lorenz nodded slowly, not sure how to interpret the abject relief he felt. “Well, when we are to leave, I will tell you then if I’m honestly attracted to you, too, and if I am willing to try for...something more.”

“Okay,” Claude sighed. “I won’t pressure you, but am I allowed to flirt with you? It seems like it’ll be fun now that you  _ know _ I’m doing it. You can also feel free to flirt back if the mood strikes you.”

“Claude, I haven’t the foggiest clue how I’d flirt with a  _ man _ .”

“You’ve been doing it pretty well without meaning to. Want me to ask whenever you say something that could be suggestive? Because, dear  _ gods _ , our morning practice sessions were just  _ rife _ with innuendo.”

“What?”

“You have to hold the  _ lance _ firmly, and use your core to power your  _ thrust _ ,” Claude paraphrased, and Lorenz felt his face heat, as the double meanings were clear when spoken in a more suggestive tone. 

“I firmly maintain my ignorance,” Lorenz muttered.

Claude shook his head, but he seemed...lighter, somehow. More relaxed. “Well, just know that whenever you make what could be construed as a suggestive comment, I am going to repeat it suggestively back to you so you’re aware when you’re flirting with me.”

Lorenz groaned unhappily, but it was more for dramatic effect--he was strangely  _ excited _ at the prospect, even if he was also sure that it would be horribly embarrassing. Someone would be flirting with him and  _ meaning _ it and  _ wanted _ to be flirted with in return  _ by him _ . It was...unprecedented.

“I know this will seem like a pittance, but...thank you for telling me, Claude,” Lorenz said, his tone oddly warm. “You could have told me a random secret from your childhood, but you trusted me with something so much more important. It’s...endlessly flattering to know someone like  _ you _ would be attracted to me.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Claude asked. “Because this feels like your version of flirting.”

“No? Maybe? I...honestly don’t know,” Lorenz said, a slightly panicked laugh in his voice. “I think if I tried to consciously flirt with you that it would come out as awful. That’s what Sylvain accused us of doing yesterday in the dorm when he came upon us. Were we... _ were _ we flirting back then?”

“I was,” Claude confirmed. “I thought you were, too…?”

“No,” Lorenz said. “At least, it wasn’t intentional flirting. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because right now I find you adorable and want to kiss you, but I know you’d either freeze up or run away if I did,” Claude responded. “And while I don’t mind pushing my luck because I think you  _ might  _ enjoy being kissed by me, I promised I would let you figure out how you feel first, so I won’t.”

“You want to kiss me.”

“Badly.”

Lorenz felt light-headed from how hard he was blushing, and the drawn-out  _ aw _ from Claude did not help matters, nor did him taking Lorenz’s hand in his and pressing his lips very gently to the back of it; even though Lorenz technically couldn’t feel it, it was symbolic enough. Someone was  _ flirting  _ with him. And doing it honestly. And had stated that they were both romantically and physically attracted to  _ him _ . Lorenz Hellman Gloucester! Someone--someone  _ wanted  _ _ him _ . 

It was terrifying and stirred painful memories that refused to stay buried.

He couldn’t stay around Claude anymore. It was too overwhelming. Claude would change his mind eventually, anyway. It didn’t matter what Lorenz did, how much he achieved, he’d never be enough, particularly considering Claude was a king. He had to get away before Claude realized the mistake he was making. Or should he actively try to seduce Claude, to get him to commit before he realized how wrong Lorenz was for him? It didn’t seem like it’d be difficult, and he literally couldn’t marry any better than a king. But, that would be  _ wrong _ , given how Claude had been so open with him.

Lorenz couldn’t breathe, the phantasmal hands of regret choking him.

Lorenz carefully removed his hand from Claude’s loose grip and said, “I have to take Shadow out for a ride or he’ll become lazy.”

“Right,” Claude said. “Take all the time you need to think. Will I see you at dinner?”

“Probably,” Lorenz hedged. “If not, then perhaps we can continue our lance lessons and Almyran language practice in the morning?”

“You’re the only person I’ll wake up at the crack of dawn for.”

_ I have to leave. _

“Thank you,” Lorenz said. “I’ll see you either tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Please try for tonight? I promise to be subtle.”

“I’ll see what I can manage.”

“Okay.”

As Lorenz turned and walked away, he caught Claude mutter to himself: “Too fast. Shouldn’t’ve admitted that I wanted to kiss him. Damnit.”

As Lorenz exited the greenhouse, he couldn’t help but press the back of his hand to his lips, over where Claude had kissed, and quietly despaired.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am...of the school of thought of "hurt your faves," so while I will include a Content Warning before each chapter for the foreseeable future, please be aware that I have Lorenz's parents do some...extremely objectionable things as part of what _they_ consider parenting to be. It will never be _graphic_ , but it will be unpleasant. So, overall, CW: Mentioned child abuse. Because now that Claude has confessed to Lorenz, all the things Lorenz buried and ignored are going to struggle to the surface.
> 
> Aside from that, I am flattered that I have as many bookmarks/comments/kudos/views as I do, so thank every one of you for your time and patronage.

Lorenz _hated_ sleepless nights, but he had a feeling he’d be dealing with them for the entire time he stayed at Garreg Mach. He had done the very ignoble thing of _run away_ from Claude for the rest of the previous day, taking Shadow out into the surrounding area until after dusk, had foregone dinner with everyone, and only returned to the dorms around one in the morning. From the talk he caught around the campus, it still wasn’t _general_ knowledge that Claude was the Almyran king, just that he was a visiting dignitary. His royal heritage would likely be announced at the feast, since Lorenz could see how introducing the students to the Queens of Brigid and the King of Almyra would work well. 

Lorenz felt, perhaps, a _little_ bit guilty about avoiding Claude, but in the world Lorenz had grown up in, people simply weren’t so clear about their feelings. There were subtle gifts-- _flowers_ had a language all their own as a way of expressing what couldn’t be said explicitly--euphemisms abounded, and bald confessions of attraction simply weren’t _done_ . That wasn’t even considering the fact that Claude was a man, a foreigner, and a _king_. 

_But, he has been so patient, so honest, so...open with me. Why would he take such a risk?_ Lorenz thought for the thousandth time, running his fingers through his hair as he stared at the ceiling of his borrowed room. _There’s no...there’s no_ benefit _to what he did, if this is a scheme._

Lorenz grimaced. _Goddess, it was unnecessarily mean for me to force him to field what was likely a deluge of questions about what was happening in the greenhouse from our House members by himself. But, what would I have even said? Probably only things I would have regretted later._

His parents had tended to not believe him when he was a child, so to avoid punishments for ‘telling lies’--regardless of whether or not his excuses and explanations were true--he had learned to say what they had wanted to hear no matter its veracity, given that the punishments were usually less steep. So, much as he might have done something regrettable by saying he actually hated Claude in an attempt to throw people off, there was an equal probability that, had enough people pressed him hard enough and long enough, he might have admitted to _loving_ Claude, just to make them _stop_ , and the result of that lie might have been an even messier fall-out to clean up. Claude would be able to tell Lorenz was lying about hating him, but had too much _hope_ to be able to tolerate the lie about love.

 _What do I do now?_ Lorenz wondered _again_ , rubbing his temples. His mind had been circling that question for hours, and he was no closer to an answer. _I promised him I’d think about whether or not I want us to be more, and I made the foolish mistake of giving him permission to flirt with me. Hopefully it will take me too long to recognize what he is doing to respond to it. I need to apologize for abandoning him and perhaps ask why he would choose_ me _. What can I even offer him as a spouse? Nothing!_

Lorenz sighed for what felt like the millionth time. _I’ll ask him to go riding with me. We can speak then without fear of being overheard. I can’t spend too much time with him, though, it might get...tricky otherwise. I promised I’d keep up my Almyran practice, however, and I don’t think Cyril would be amicable to practicing with me, so Claude it will have to be. I wish I could speak to Ferdinand before tomorrow, but he’s the husband of the Fodlanese Sovereign and the head of Empire territories, so he’s a busy man…_

Lorenz laid in the borrowed bed, simmering in discontent, the scene in the greenhouse on endless loop in his head, until the dawn finally kissed the horizon and heralded the new day.

 _Well, that was a waste of a night,_ Lorenz thought. _Let’s see if he’s awake. I never heard him snore, so perhaps his sleep was as troubled as mine. A morning ride might do him good._

Lorenz got out of bed, performed his morning ablutions, forewent his armor for more ‘formal’ clothes--which were their own kind of armor--and left his room. 

_This might be a bad idea,_ Lorenz thought prior to knocking briskly on Claude’s door, which earned him a rather theatrical groan of dismay.

“Just a little longer,” Claude called through the door, his voice slurred with sleep.

“Claude, do you--”

Lorenz did not expect to hear a painful-sounding _thud_ , followed by an Almyran curse, then: “I’ll be right there, don’t leave. Please.”

Lorenz waited, a strange mixture of guilt, concern, and curiosity warring in his chest, and it didn’t take long for the lock to be disengaged and Claude opened the door. Upon seeing him, the tension in Claude’s grip on the door went slack.

“You’re still here,” Claude said, his voice thick with relief.

“I told you, I just need time to think,” Lorenz murmured in reply. “I’m not going to leave you without an answer.”

There was an awkward silence for a _long_ moment before they spoke simultaneously:

“Look, I’m sorry--”

“I wanted to apologize--”

They both stopped, then Claude said, “You first.”

“I wanted to apologize for leaving you to face our House members alone,” Lorenz said. “I imagine it wasn’t exactly a _comfortable_ dinner.”

Claude’s smile was half-grimace. “It was interesting. And I wanted to apologize for moving too fast. I _know_ Fodlanese nobility has extensive and elaborate courtship rituals, ways of saying what I told you without being upfront about it all. I saw an opening that any _Almyran_ would take to confess, rolled the dice, and got snake eyes because no blue-blooded Fodlanese noble would have done something so...forward.”

Lorenz wasn’t sure why he felt _flustered_ , but he could feel his face heating slightly. “Claude--”

“So will you let me court you?” Claude asked. “The Fodlanese way, I mean. Damn, I’m being too blunt again, aren’t I?”

Without really _thinking_ , Lorenz reached out and took Claude’s hands in his, pulling him out of his room slightly. “May I ask you something in a very _Almyran_ fashion? Although, privacy would be nice…”

“Can we use your room?” Claude said, his face flushing dark. “Mine is a, uh, bit messy.”

“Already?”

“Yes,” Claude answered simply and left his room, freeing one of his hands to close the door behind him. Lorenz nodded slightly and led Claude into his room, letting him in first before entering behind him. Claude flopped down in the desk chair, but there was tension in his shoulders and legs in spite of how casual his posture looked.

“Why?” Lorenz asked once the door was closed behind him.

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why choose me?” Lorenz asked and leaned against the door. “I’m the wrong partner for you in _so many_ ways. I cannot give you a child, I cannot give you territory, I will not increase your social standing, I will not increase your wealth. I am a divisive choice in your home country, being both a foreigner and a man--I am political suicide. I strongly doubt that I can provide you with either emotional or sexual satisfaction. What can I do to convince you to _not_ choose me?”

“By telling me to fuck off.”

“...pardon?”

“Tell me you hate me. Tell me you find me abhorrent, that you’re sickened by me. Tell me that this changes your decision to be the Fodlanese ambassador, tell me that you want nothing to do with me.” Claude swallowed. “Tell me there is no hope. Tell me that you’d rather die than be with me. That you’d never look at me as a potential partner even if I was the only person left eligible in the entire world. Tell me that being half-Almyran makes me a half-demon, dirty, unworthy, a blight upon the royal line, an affront to the world. _If_ you can tell me these things and _mean them_ in complete honesty, I’ll--”

“Did people actually say such things to you before?” Lorenz cut in, unable to tolerate the old, hollow pain in Claude’s eyes as he spoke any longer. “You...you had crushes and a first love, didn’t you? And each time you approached whomever it was, they told you such vile nonsense, didn’t they?”

Lorenz crossed the small amount of space in the room, knelt in front of Claude, then reached out and gently cupped Claude’s face in his hands, running his thumbs along Claude’s jaw to gently grasp the back of his head and pull him in close so their foreheads just barely touched. “I can’t tell you any of those things because they’re all _lies_ , Claude. I don’t hate you. I don’t find your abhorrent or sickening. I’m excited about being the Fodlanese ambassador, it’s an honor to have been chosen, and it felt amazing to have _you_ describe all my accomplishments to the Professor yesterday. Your mixed blood makes you _stronger_ , and while I may have called into question your worthiness to lead in the past, you have proven my misgivings wrong on a number of occasions.”

Lorenz felt his face begin to heat when Claude leaned forward enough to put his arms around Lorenz’s shoulders, their eyes holding and breath mingling in the small space between them. Lorenz swallowed hard and continued: “You’re not a blight, or dirty, or an affront to anything except small-minded people’s sensibilities. All those awful things were said out of jealousy or fear. I...I can’t tell you in full honesty that there is no hope. If you were the _only_ person in the world left available, I can’t say that I _wouldn’t_ choose to be with you. And would I have protected you if I would rather die than be with you?”

Lorenz didn’t think he’d _ever_ be so honest with anyone, least of all Claude, but he meant every word, and that alone was unnerving.

“And what were _you_ told, that you think yourself unworthy?” Claude asked, his voice low, echoes of old pain mingled with relief in his tone. “Because it seems so...uncharacteristic of you to have so many doubts about yourself. The reasons you gave me for your lack of suitability--inheritance, money, power, politics, children--are excuses, and poor ones at that.”

“I was never told anything to make me feel unworthy, I’m simply pointing out realities,” Lorenz lied. “Well, Fodlanese realities. Does Almyra have political marriages?”

“Not in the same sense that Fodlanese nobility does,” Claude said. “Although the concept of joining families to increase their strength _is_ known, its interpretation is different.”

“And joining House Gloucester to the Almyran kingship is not beneficial.”

“Says _you_ ,” Claude said. “Your father keeps his own standing army. That alone would be considered _beneficial_.”

“Kept,” Lorenz corrected. “I disbanded it.”

“...really?”

“Of course. What need had I for an _army_?”

“Isn’t he still alive?”

“My father? He is, yes.”

“I can't see him being _pleased_ with losing his personal army.”

Lorenz shrugged delicately. “They were an unnecessary drain on resources that were better diverted elsewhere, considering how much rebuilding was required after the war. It was a trifling argument.”

A _trifling_ argument that had ended in Lorenz temporarily relocating his parents to their hunting chateau so that tempers could cool and he could affect budget changes without having to fight for and exhaustively justify the redistribution of even a single coin, but Claude didn’t need to know that.

An odd silence settled before Claude said, “You know, while I enjoy being this close to you, it is also a bitter fight against temptation.”

Before Lorenz could pull away due to the discomfort brought upon by that statement, Claude let go and sat back in the chair, Lorenz’s hands falling to rest on Claude’s knees. Claude took a breath to speak, paused as he appeared to realize something, then quickly looked away, his face darkening a few shades. “Please stand.”

Lorenz frowned slightly, confused, but did as asked, resting a hand on the back of the chair next to Claude’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed as Claude remained pointedly _not_ looking at him, his face instead somehow having flushed even darker. 

“What’s wrong?”

Claude opened his mouth, reconsidered, then buried his face in his hands and said, “It’s nothing.”

It was somehow _pleasing_ as well as strange, seeing Claude flustered, so Lorenz thought back on what about their previous positions--Lorenz kneeling before him--could have Claude so visibly bothered.

 _Marriage proposal?_ Lorenz wondered. _Perhaps, but I don’t think so._

“Do you want me to start guessing?” Lorenz asked.

“No! No, it’s nothing important, _really_ ,” Claude said quickly. “As for the answer to the first question you asked--why choose you--there really is no good answer. At first, I couldn’t help but pay attention to you because you were so damn _irritating_. But, paying attention to you led to me noticing things. How you continually strove for an unreachable and unknowable ideal of nobility, how you always sought to serve the Alliance, even if I disagreed with how to go about it. Because I was on the outside looking in, your views and goals seemed so small and narrow-minded, but...after figuring out that you were doing the best you could given Fodlanese society and the stranglehold of the Rhea’s church’s ideology, it...changed my perspective a little. I wanted to know what made you tick, which meant I paid even more attention to you, and when your father finally stepped down and you assumed power…” 

Claude shook his head slowly. “You are...from where you came from, that you are who you are now is remarkable. And that growth is seductive. I want to...I want to know how much more you will grow, give you more responsibility and watch you flourish and surprise me at every turn. These emotions are uncomfortable and strange, but they all come back to just waiting to spend time with _you_. I can...I can literally think of nothing more I would rather do than show you my homeland, the hidden oasis, the soaring mountains, the wide open plains, the herds of wild horses. I want to teach you to like Almyran food and customs, show you that Almyrans aren’t the savages Fodlanese think they are, and use you to show my people that Fodlanese aren’t soul-stealing demons. It’s your magic that makes them think that, by the way, as no full-blooded Almyran has the talent for magic. Also, could you sit down? You hovering is a bit distracting.”

“Hovering?” Lorenz huffed, and Claude cracked a smile.

 _Sit on his lap!_ A surprisingly impish part of Lorenz yelled at him, and Lorenz was moving before he could stop himself, perching himself delicately on Claude’s lap.

“Is this better?” Lorenz heard himself ask nonchalantly even as he was internally _screeching_ at himself for being so, so...forward! What was he thinking?!

Claude made a strange, strangled sound and said, “This is flirting. You are flirting with me. You cannot deny that you are flirting with me, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.”

“There is only one chair in the room,” Lorenz pointed out. 

“There’s the bed! Sit on the bed! No, wait, don’t, nevermind, you’re already here, stay. Stay _here_.” With that final emphasis, Claude put his arm around Lorenz’s waist.

“Very well,” Lorenz said and shifted so his arm was resting along the back of the chair, turning enough to be comfortable, and he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Claude’s eyes so wide or face quite so dark.

“It’s too early for this,” Claude groaned and turned his face into Lorenz’s shoulder. “What did you _actually_ want?”

“I wanted to ask if you wished to join me for a morning ride--”

“On horses. Riding _horses_. Right?”

“Of course. I don’t know how to fly.”

“I could teach you.”

There was the slightest strange lilt to Claude’s voice that had Lorenz suspecting that Claude wasn’t referencing flying using a wyvern, but also didn’t know what else he could possibly mean, since pegasi were notorious for throwing any man who tried to ride one. “If I trusted anyone to keep me from falling to my death, it would be you.”

Claude was silent for a moment before snorting. “You’re right, I wouldn’t let that happen to you.”

“Anyway. I was planning to ask if you wanted to go for a ride, perhaps do some lance work--”

Claude wheezed.

“Claude?”

“Nothing. So, a ride, some _sparring_ , and then some instruction in the Almyran language?”

“Exactly. I want to be as adept in the tongue as possible.”

“You are flirting with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you gods-damned are.”

“How?”

“Everything you just said is rife with innuendo! You’re sitting on my lap with your arm around my shoulders, looking far too attractive--where did you get these _clothes?!_ \--making veiled sex-references, and it’s _killing me_. I was not ready to be flirted with first thing in the morning!”

Lorenz pushed Claude’s upper body back enough so he could look at Claude’s face. “Whatever are you talking about?”

Claude just gaped at Lorenz for a second before resting his head against Lorenz’s shoulder again and saying, “How sheltered were you?! Did you parents explain _anything_ about sex to you?!”

“I often have to ask people to define slang terms for me,” Lorenz said by way of explanation. “But, I had multiple conversations about sex with my father and mother.”

Admittedly, none of those conversations were ones that he liked to remember, but he had had them.

“So...you _do_ know that there is a sex position where one partner is said to _ride_ the other, right?” Claude said into Lorenz’s shoulder.

“Ah….no,” Lorenz said, heat slowly rising in his face. “I suppose you used _lance_ as a euphemism for penis before, but what is suggestive about me wanting to learn the Almyran language?”

“Tongue. You said you want to be proficient with the _tongue_.”

Lorenz waited for Claude to clarify, and Claude eventually made a sound of extreme frustration, then pulled back.

“Oral sex,” Claude said simply. “Being skilled with your tongue can reference either oral sex or kissing.”

“Oh,” Lorenz said, his own face heating.

“I’d never push you for oral sex, but perhaps...might I convince you to show me what you know of kissing?”

The heat and rough edge to Claude’s voice as he ran his thumb ever so lightly over Lorenz’s lower lip and leaned in just a little bit made Lorenz’s heartrate skyrocket.

There was something _magnetic_ to Claude, something that drew Lorenz in and made him want to close the small distance that separated them, but fear conquered the desire, keeping him immobile.

When it became apparent that Lorenz wasn’t moving, Claude pulled away, sighed, and said, “I _will_ get you back for this...this...apparently _not_ -flirting.”

“I was serious about my plans for the morning, and would like you to join me, but you don’t have to if you wouldn’t feel comfortable,” Lorenz said, ignoring the threat and trying to reestablish his bearings.

“You’re playing with my hair.”

“Apologies,” Lorenz said, stilling a hand he hadn’t noticed was running slowly through Claude’s luxurious hair. 

“You are making it very hard to move slowly,” Claude grumbled.

“Ah, right. I never answered that question, did I? Yes, you are allowed to properly court me as you would any Fodlanese noble. I do hope you understand that means we can’t meet like this again. Fodlanese courtship is a very _public_ ritual.”

“But what if I get lonely or feel unsafe? Am I allowed to come and ask to share a bed with you? I promise I won’t do anything besides hold you or be held by you.”

“We are in Garreg Mach.”

“So? That doesn’t mean it’s _safe_ . It _was_ attacked and infiltrated multiple times during our time as students and during the war.”

“It is now the Fodlanese capital and people are neurotic about the Professor’s safety. There is likely no place in this country safer than here.”

“How has Teach managed to escape having a court?”

“They _do_ have one, it’s just that it is made of all former students who are now heads of their respective territories, so there isn’t the same kind of in-fighting and lack of cooperation as before.”

“Hm. I suppose that makes sense. You still didn’t answer if I’m allowed to share your bed if I have a bad dream and am scared.”

Puppy-dog eyes on Claude remained unnerving and Lorenz had to still his hand _again_ , since he had begun to play with Claude’s hair once more in his distraction. 

“As long as you promise that it will _only_ be for comfort and you will not try anything _funny_ , I suppose it’s acceptable...”

“I swear by whatever you want me to that my hands will not go lower than your bellybutton if I end up sharing a bed with you while we are here,” Claude said.

“I will hold you to that.”

“I’d prefer if you just hold me.”

“Claude. Even _I_ can tell that’s flirting.”

“Oh! Good! Now I know how obvious I have to be,” Claude said _far_ too cheerfully, a wide grin blooming on his face.

 _Oh, no_ was the only thing Lorenz could think. Lorenz cleared his throat and said, “So, will you join me this morning for a ride around the Garreg Mach environs, a light spar, and some language practice?”

“You’re the one keeping me pinned here,” Claude pointed out, and Lorenz jumped up standing when Claude slid his hand along Lorenz’s inner thigh. 

“Don’t do that,” Lorenz scolded, hating how he was blushing, the feeling of Claude’s touch somehow _lingering_. 

Claude just smiled. “You’ll have to let me get changed first, so just wait a few minutes for me, hm?”

“Of course.”

Claude left, but his scent seemed to linger, and Lorenz hated that it was somehow _soothing_.

 _I’m losing my mind,_ he decided and shook his head in an attempt to clear it, leaving his room and locking it behind him before leaning against the opposite wall and waiting for Claude to make an appearance again. _What was I_ thinking _, sitting on his lap like that? Playing with his hair? I..._ am _I attracted to him, too? I can’t be! No, there has to be a different explanation. Am I sick?_

Lorenz was still trying to unravel the events that had passed inside his room when Claude exited his own temporary abode, looking much more awake and in a suspiciously good mood. 

“After you,” Claude said and gestured that Lorenz precede him down the stairs.

Lorenz was _mildly_ suspicious, but did so, and relaxed fully once they exited the building without incident.

As they were halfway to the stables, Claude spoke up: “You were serious earlier, weren’t you?”

“Insincerity is unbecoming of a true noble, so, yes, everything I said was sincere,” Lorenz said. 

“So, you really don’t hate me?”

“No, I don’t hate you.”

Claude’s almost boyish grin made a part of his (Lorenz’s) heart melt at how cute and young the expression made the other man appear.

A comfortable silence fell between them as they approached the stables, some of the few people up and about at the early hour. When they finally reached the newly-upgraded stables, Shadow neighed a salutation, and Lorenz greeted him with a pet and a sugar cube before starting to outfit him. It was quick, quiet, _soothing_ work, and he was soon mounted and waiting for Claude, who came out on Spot not too long after Lorenz had finished.

“There is a riding trail that circles the village and Garreg Mach,” Lorenz said. “It will take about an hour for a full circuit, and by then the training ground will likely be open. We can take breakfast after that and you can teach me more Almyran. How does that sound?”

“As good a plan as any,” Claude said. “Lead on.”

None of the guards asked questions as to why they were leaving the Monastery proper, and it was only once they were out of the swiftly-stirring village, the scent of bread permeating the morning air, that Lorenz nudged Shadow into a light trot. Lorenz took a deep breath of the clear, clean, still air of the formerly ‘sealed’ forest, which, from what Lorenz understood, had simply become a training ‘battleground’ for practicing various tactical maneuvers as part of the course of study in the Officers Academy.

“Fodlan really is a beautiful country,” Claude murmured after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“I believe I remember you saying that Almyra is more mountainous?”

“In some places,” Claude confirmed. “We have high steppes, grasslands, a desert, and two extensive coastlines. The capital is in the middle of the Great Plains at the center of the country. Flat for as far as the eye can see, rows upon rows of agriculture along the banks of the Karaj river, fishing and trade boats coming and going constantly. We’ll have to pass through some...unfriendly...territory to get to the capital, unless you’re willing to take a boat from Derdiru up the Karaj, but that’s weeks on the water.”

“Shadow isn’t fond of boats,” Lorenz said and lightly stroked his stallion’s neck. “And I _am_ going to bring him with me.”

“Of course,” Claude said, smiling. “He’ll be the envy of the entire calvary.”

“Naturally,” Lorenz said and Shadow tossed his head and danced a little, clearly aware that he was being complemented. 

“What are your plans for our time here?” Claude asked.

“Confirm who will take over control of the former-Alliance territories, catch up with friends, take some time to breathe, I suppose,” Lorenz said. “Once we leave Garreg Mach, it will be business again when visiting the Gloucester Manse. I’ll have a thousand and two problems to get in order, and then we’ll be traveling to the Almyran capital, and I will have to be on my best behavior.”

“Lorenz, I’m sure people will like you once they get beyond your hair and eye color.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing! Well, almost nothing,” Claude said. “You know what Cyril looks like, and met Nader. How they look is the norm. You won’t find many Almyrans with light-colored hair or eyes, and _certainly_ none with amethyst like yours.”

“Amethyst? What a charming description,” Lorenz said and pulled a strand of his hair into view. “I always thought of it as simply purple.”

“Amethyst may only be a semi-precious stone, but you are very precious to me,” Claude said and shot Lorenz a wink. 

Lorenz did not appreciate how much his heart fluttered at the truly terrible line, so snorted and said, “Thank you, I suppose. So, my hair and skin color will set me apart?”

“Extremely,” Claude sighed. “You traveling in your normal clothes might not be _safe_ either if we are to visit any tribes or villages we come across in our travels.”

“My armor is custom-made, I won’t--that’s right, I need to get it repaired! Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome,” Claude said. “But, I’m serious. You’re going to stick out like a, a...a pegasus in a flock of wyvern. We should get you a disguise.”

“While I personally feel it is a crime to conceal how devastatingly handsome I am, I suppose needs must. What kind of disguise are you suggesting, because I am not changing my hair color.”

“Nor was I going to suggest that. Let me think.”

“Of course.”

They rode in companionable silence for a spell until Claude broke it by mumbling: “I guess that might work.”

“What might?”

“So, I’m guessing that you noticed during the delegation that Almyran clothing is sometimes fairly different from Fodlanese, right?”

“I did, yes. It was much more colorful and with many more patterns.”

“Well, some Almyran citizens wear floor-length robes and cover both their heads and faces so you can only see their eyes. ”

“That seems rather excessive. Is it because where they live is cold?”

“No, not really. It’s, uh…”

“...what _aren’t_ you telling me about this plan of yours?”

“Er, mostly that the people who wear such garb are either clerics of a particular god or married women.”

“Claude…”

“Not that I’m implying or suggesting anything!” Claude said quickly.

“I’m guessing from that statement that the _clerics_ are exceedingly rare?”

“They don’t often leave the temple, no, so one traveling would be remarkable in a bad way.”

“So, most people would think me your wife.”

“...yeah, probably.”

“May I know _why_ married women are covered so?”

“It’s only amongst the most traditional of Almyrans and stems from three different things, from my understanding of the custom--protecting women from the _lustful gazes_ of men, asserting your husband’s claim, and keeping you safe from being stolen by demons attracted to your, er, fecundity. There’s actually a folktale about a man who dressed like a married woman to lure a daeva--a kind of demon--out of hiding and send it back to the Otherworld where it belongs, and, in doing so, saved a tribe from ruin.”

“Intriguing,” Lorenz said. “At least my disguise would have _heroic_ precedence.”

Claude chuckled and gave Lorenz another wink. “And it’s not going to save you from _my_ lustful gazes, since I will know what’s beneath.”

Lorenz hated that it was so easy for Claude to make him blush, but it was new and unusual for him to be flirted _with_. 

“I don’t think I would do well at changing my posture or behavior, so while I might look the part, I would not be a convincing actor,” Lorenz said.

“You can be a married woman who used to be a member of the Almyran army before you settled down,” Claude said. “It’s not unusual for a woman to have her own horse, although you having a stallion would cause _my_ manhood to be commented on.”

Lorenz snorted and shook his head. “You Almyrans are strange sometimes.”

“Every culture has its oddities. You’ll have to be careful about using your magic, too, but--dear gods, your ability to use a spear as well as you do will earn me _different_ lewd comments.”

“Perhaps you _should_ teach me some Almyran slang terms,” Lorenz said. “If just so I know when men are giving you flack for having a wife who is taller and broader than you, rides a stallion, and can wield a spear handily.”

Cladue seemed to choke on his own spit and had to cough a bit before he wheezed, “Right. Was that flirting?”

Lorenz replayed what he had just said in his head. “No, I was not implying that I want to touch your penis.”

“Thank you for putting it in as un-sexy a way as possible.”

“You’re welcome.”

Claude shook his head. “You said you had _multiple_ discussions with both your parents about sex, and yet you seem...innocent around some things. How?”

“When my parents deemed it time for me to understand human conception, my father gave me scientific papers to read,” Lorenz said. "The pictures were extremely detailed, but a lot of the vocabulary went over my ten-year-old head. He also…” Lorenz trailed off, completely certain that explaining more would wade into any further explanation would end in Claude being outraged.

“Also what?” Claude prompted, his expression open, curious, but fairly neutral. 

_Upon returning from my father testing me on my horsemanship, we caught one of the stableboys having a go with his girlfriend of the time. My father kept me from saying anything and made sure I watched them copulate until they finished, then prevented them from escaping or covering themselves. I received a hands-on lecture in human anatomy and then my father had them demonstrate various other sex positions and acts using the medico-legal terms to describe them before dismissing both from employment at the manse, confiscating their clothing and forcing them to return to their quarters naked,_ Lorenz though. _No, not telling him that._

“Provided diagrams as well as a clinical description of sex acts, what happens during orgasm, and so forth. I didn’t learn Fodlanese slang for sex and genitalia until I entered the School of Sorcery. My mother explained menstruation, childbirth, and pregnancy to me,” Lorenz said.

 _Using her maids as a teaching tool and having me witness one of them give birth,_ Lorenz added internally. _Women are amazingly resilient._

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d get information on what women go through,” Claude said, actually looking impressed.

“I will have a wife and potentially daughters some day, so it didn’t hurt to learn,” Lorenz said, clearly remembering how much he regretted asking his mother about who the ‘Aunt Flo’ some of the maids mentioned was. “I imagine your parents gave you a less clinical description of sex?”

“Well, they sure as hell didn’t make me read a scientific paper on ‘how to make babies,'” Claude said. “They’ve always been open about love and sex with me, and woud give me age appropriate answers to whatever question I had.”

 _Love_ and _sex,_ Lorenz thought, running his fingers through Shadow’s mane. 

“In case you didn’t get the sense from what stories I’ve told, both my parents are impossible romantics,” Claude said, smiling softly. “Dad always blushed whenever he tried to explain something about intimacy to me, and Mom would let him squirm before answering whatever he couldn’t. I know about the female monthly cycle because Mom had nearly debilitating cramps and terrible PMS, so both Dad and I learned how to anticipate her cycle almost as well as she did. I asked about it because during my mother’s cycle, some of the maids and servants refused to handle her chamberpot because it was _unclean_. One time, Dad was away and Mom was incapacitated with pain, so I had to help clean her room and toilet area. When I saw how much blood there was in her chamberpot, I thought Mom was dying. I cried so hard and worried so much about her that she couldn’t help but laugh and then try to explain it in such a way that a eight-year-old would understand what was happening.” 

Lorenz could almost see a eight-year old Claude, tears streaming down his face as he tried to find a way to fix his mother’s pain, a woman with his eyes and smile laughing and shushing him in an attempt to calm him, holding him against her.

Lorenz chuckled slightly even as he couldn’t help a burning coal of envy from smoldering in his chest. Lorenz’s mother proudly bore her pain on her own; the one time he had offered to help because she was obviously feeling unwell she had smacked him hard enough that he saw stars and scolded him for assuming he knew what was best for her health and that he was most certainly _not_ to mention to his father that she was feeling ill. She would not have him shame her so.

“I’m probably going to regret asking, but I’m morbidly curious,” Claude said. “What kind of dating advice did your parents give you?”

“Dating advice?” Lorenz repeated. “What do you mean? I learned the rules of courtship, the stages and requisite gifts to both my potential bride and her family, what traits would make a suitable wife and mother, things like that. Commoners _date_ , nobles don’t. We have obligations to fulfill that take precedence over such frivolities as dating and casual sex. As long as your name isn’t Sylvain Jose Gautier, at least.”

Claude chuckled at the last part, shaking his head slowly. “He dated and slept around quite a bit, didn’t he? There were times I wanted to knock on his door and throw water on him like I saw a groundskeeper do to a tomcat that was getting a bit too aggressive with the mollies.”

Lorenz snorted. “You should have. It would have been worth it.”

Claude shook his head, clearly amused. “You know, you’re making more sense the more I learn about you, so thank you for being honest with me.”

“As far as I can tell, you have been honest with _me_ when I have asked you questions, and it would be inconsiderate for me not to reciprocate such trust. From your question, am I to assume that _you_ received ‘dating advice’ from your parents?”

Claude groaned dramatically. “It really put into perspective how _different_ some things are in Almyra and Fodlan. They both want me to be happy, and they both mean well, but Dad’s ‘seduction techniques’ are garbage and Mom’s statement of ‘Most Fodlanese people date with expectation of marriage, so don’t date while in Fodlan unless you feel comfortable returning to Almyra with a Fodlanese bride’ held true.”

“Your dad tried to teach you _seduction techniques_?” Lorenz said, incredulous. “That sounds like it probably went as well as Alois attempting to teach Petra how to tell jokes.”

Claude laughed at that. “Oh, gods, Lorenz, you don’t know the half of it. Petra was so _proud_ of the Fodlanese jokes and puns she was learning, and so very upset when, upon quoting them to me, I just groaned. Alois’ puns are _nightmares._ ”

“I heard he apparently inherited a book of them from the Professor’s father.”

“ _No_ , really? But, Teach is so...so...they’re more emotional now, but they’re still fairly stoic. Knowing them, I can’t imagine Captain Jeralt saying the same kind of puns as Alois…”

“I suppose anything is possible.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Claude agreed, a wry smile momentarily gracing his face. “You know what? So that you’re not completely in the dark and it’s on-topic, I’ll teach you Almyran slang while we’re out here, and we can practice more formal Almyran during breakfast. Sound good to you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Lorenz ended up learning some new _Fodlanese_ slang terms during the ride as well, since formal correspondence did not lend itself to slang, which left Claude flabbergasted. 

“Did your parents not let you be a teenager or something?” Claude asked, mystified, when Lorenz admitted to not understanding the Fodlanese term Claude translated an Almyran phrase to. “You _did_ have friends, right?”

Lorenz hesitated.

“Lorenz?”

“I told you that my parents raised me to aspire to the noble ideal, yes? They...curated my outside exposure.”

“Or, your parents chose your friends, which meant they weren’t ever really _your_ friends,” Claude interpreted, anger an undercurrent to his voice. “Did you ever try to escape?”

“Once. I got to the edge of the manse grounds before my father’s men caught me,” Lorenz said, and shrugged. “I didn’t make the mistake of attempting to run away again.”

Claude sped up and Lorenz had to bring Shadow up short when Claude blocked the road with Spot. He looked...more serious than Lorenz could ever remember except for when they were planning to infiltrate Enbarr. 

“Claude?”

“That’s where the scars came from,” Claude stated. “You tried to run away from home, and your father treated you like a, a, a _slave_ , whipping you for your disobedience. You can’t tell me I’m wrong, can you?”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t the punishment for trying to run away from home,” Lorenz said. “He had a makeshift jail cell made out of a spare horse stall and had me live there for a week. Or was it two? The days blurred together after a while. However, I did lose all my excess weight during my confinement, so I suppose something good came of it. No, like I told you, the scars came from me losing control of the horse I was training on, before Shadow was born.”

Claude pinched the bridge of his nose and took a number of deep breaths. “Your father threw you in a horse stall for at _least_ a week because you tried to run away from home.”

“Yes,” Lorenz answered simply and moved Shadow around Spot, continuing onward.

“Do you _not_ see how messed up that is?!” Claude demanded, coming up alongside Lorenz.

“No?” Lorenz responded. “It was an effective punishment. It corrected my bad behavior, prevented further attempts, and taught me to be grateful for all that I had. I don’t think I would have gotten terribly far anyway, I was so ill-prepared.”

“You do not have to justify--!” Claude cut himself off with a growl of what Lorenz assumed was frustration. “You know what? It fits with what I know of him. I don’t think I can spar with you, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just want to hit something and pretend it’s him whose face I’m bashing in. How old were you?”

“Twelve, I believe.”

Claude’s silence was _hostile_ , which Lorenz found somehow amusing.

“Claude, don’t be angry,” Lorenz chided. “My experiences made me who I am today, and my parents never did anything that didn’t eventually benefit me in some way. I suppose I just needed a sterner hand than most.”

Claude began to mutter to himself in Almyran, which gradually dwindled to a simmer of occasional curses in Almyran, Fodlanese, and an unfamiliar language--probably the language of the country to the east of Almyra. When they were nearly finished the circuit, Claude finally spoke in full-Fodlanese again: “I don’t know how you turned out to be even a _remotely_ good person with the kind of parenting tactics your family used on you.”

“Different children require different parenting styles,” Lorenz said with a dismissive shrug. “Now, don’t look so cross, we’ll be going through the town again, and the last thing anyone needs to see is you scowling. It might worry people.”

“Right,” Claude sighed. He took a deep breath, sat up straighter in the saddle, and managed to slip on a mask of neutrality, even if his eyes were still smoldering with unhappiness.

The ride had taken longer than Lorenz anticipated, however, and Lorenz’s stomach was complaining about the lack of food and tea; when Claude’s stomach joined the protesting chorus, they both laughed and forewent the spar for breakfast.

Thankfully, due to it still being relatively early, the dining hall was only sparsely populated and food was plentiful.

“Did you eat _anything_ last night?” Claude asked when he saw how much Lorenz took.

“I was too distracted to be hungry,” Lorenz said as he set down his plate at their chosen spot on one of the long tables. “I’ll be right back--I’m just getting a pot of tea.”

“Right.”

After asking the right woman and looking appropriately and dramatically heartbroken over her initial refusal, Lorenz emerged with a pot of tea and two tea cups from the kitchen. Claude was poking at his food with his fork without eating it, seemingly deep in thought as Lorenz approached. Lorenz made sure to put down the teapot far enough away but with enough intention to alert Claude to his presence; it still seemed to startle Claude slightly.

“Oh, you got me a cup, too,” Claude observed.

“I figured it would only be polite to share,” Lorenz said and sat down.

“Well, thanks,” Claude said with a small smile as Lorenz first poured a cup of tea for Claude, then himself.

Breakfast conversation was, thankfully, much lighter than what they had shared on the trail, and Lorenz was distantly pleased that he managed to make Claude choke on his food as he attempted to laugh and chew at the same time; thankfully, no lasting harm was done, although he did get a small glare from Claude for the near-miss with death. Lorenz sighed and took out a handkerchief before reaching across the table to Claude and wiping away some crumbs that had attached themselves to Claude’s face as a result of his coughing fit. 

“Try to take a little more care,” Lorenz chided. “You’re royalty, you need to behave dignified at least _some_ of the time.”

“I’m not in Almyra, so why bother?” Claude said with a crooked smile. “Right now I’m just a visiting dignitary and I already have better _table manners_ than most Almyran savages.”

Lorenz couldn’t restrain a grimace. “I’m sorry if you overheard that in Riverton.”

“Nothing I haven’t heard in some way before,” Claude said, waving away Lorenz’s apology. “How about we practice formal Almyran now? I’ll start speaking to you--simple sentences, don’t worry--and you’ll respond in Almyran. I’m not looking for anything fancy, just that you understand what I’m saying and know how to respond. It’ll also help you get used to hearing Almyran spoken.”

“Very well. I will do my best.”

“You always do.”

The affection in that simple statement made Lorenz feel warmer than hot tea on a cold morning.

His Almyran was still halting and an uncomfortable mixture of Fodlanese and Almyran pronunciations, but Claude’s genuine praise for each time he _did_ get a sentence completely correct made Lorenz work _harder_ to get the next one right, too. Eventually, they were chased out of the dining hall as the morning rush of students hit, and parted ways--Lorenz had meetings he wanted to set up, Claude likely had people he wanted to see, and Lorenz refused to monopolize _all_ his time.

 _Let's see,_ Lorenz thought as he wandered towards the administrative area of Garreg Mach. _I need to schedule a meeting with the professor to focus on Alliance-specific concerns, and would like to catch up with everyone, so I need to set up teas. Where to start? Seteth, I suppose, given that the Professor is likely to be busiest._

Seteth was, predictably, in his office.

"Ah, Lorenz, you're up and about early," Seteth said when Lorenz entered the room after a perfunctory knock.

"I could say the same for you. Awfully early to start work, isn't it?"

"Byleth has left most of the management of the Church to me, so there is always more to do than time to do it in," Seteth said. "Now, how may I help you?"

"I was hoping to schedule a _formal_ meeting with their Serene Excellency."

"Ah, so what occurred yesterday was an _informal_ one, hm?" Seteth said, and Lorenz caught the subtle note of annoyance in his tone.

"Precisely. Students catching up with their former teacher," Lorenz replied smoothly.

There was a pause wherein Lorenz half-expected Seteth to call him on his bullshit, but instead the Saint sighed with the weight of centuries of dealing with nonsense, then said, "Very well. Let me see when they have a break in their schedule."

"Much obliged," Lorenz responded as Seteth took a calendar out of his desk and began to scan the pages. 

“Your diplomatic work has been extraordinary, Lorenz,” Seteth said as he scanned the papers before him.

“Of course,” Lorenz said archly. “There’s nothing I can’t accomplish once I’ve set my mind to it, so it was prudent for the Sovereign to put their faith in me when it came to such delicate matters.”

“It did not escape my notice that you were more generous with Almyra than Sreng.”

“Generous? Nonsense,” Lorenz scoffed. “I fought for every provision, and received greater than or equal in return.”

“As you say,” Seteh said. “The Sovereign will be available in two day’s time for a two-hour meeting. I am being _generous_ and scheduling it up against lunch, so if needs be you can continue to speak even when they _should_ be taking a break.”

“Your consideration is appreciated,” Lorenz said, mildly suspicious. “So, I will see the Professor in two days, from 10 in the morning to noon with the potential to bleed into a lunch meeting.”

“Precisely,” Seteth said and scribbled down Lorenz’s full name in the appropriate time block. “Will that be all?”

“It will be, yes,” Lorenz said. “Thank you for your time.”

“Take care, Count Gloucester.”

Seteth saying that felt _weirdly_ ominous, but Lorenz shook it off as he left Seteth’s study.

 _Now, I think everyone save Dorothea and Petra are here, so I can set up almost all my meetings. Who should I try to get a hold of first?_ Lorenz wondered as he gave the Professor a small wave as he looked into the audience chamber, and he caught the slightest of waves back from them and a half-smile from Ferdinand before their attention clearly returned to whatever report was being presented to them by Shamir. _I certainly must make time to speak with Marianne and Lysithea, so I will attempt to find them first. The library is here, so I’ll check there for Lysithea, and, if she is not there, I’ll see if she is in the Crestolgical Research Laboratory._

The library was empty of anyone he knew save Lindhart and Ignatz; Lindhart was dozing, while Ignatz seemed to be _adding_ books to the shelves.

 _Ignatz and Lysithea were fairly close,_ Lorenz thought and approached the artist. “Good morning.”

Ignatz startled slightly, then gave Lorenz a relieved smile once he registered who it was. “Oh, hello Lorenz.”

“You are adding books to the library?”

“Claude really does think of everything,” Ignatz said and chuckled as he opened one bok to show elaborate pictures in an art style Lorenz was wholly unfamiliar with. “Look at these! These show the evolution of Almyran art techniques through their recorded history! It’s astounding. Their use of color and geometric pattern is arresting, and even their more stylized works carry intense religious connotations and significance.”

“Is that so?” Lorenz said, leaning over to get a slightly better look. “You spoke with Claude about these already?”

“Not extensively, but he promised that he’d take some time to go over it in more detail with me. Even just looking at this, I think I...I think I finally understand what he and Shamir mean by just how much _more_ of the world is out there to discover. One day, I’m going to travel with Leonie to Dagda and Almyra and Brigid and paint their landscapes so everyone in Fodlan who doesn’t have the luxury of travel can see what else is out there.”

“An admirable goal,” Lorenz said. “I should have brought you with me to Sreng. It was strange, traveling through barren badlands to suddenly find glittering cities built out of the very mountains that kept the majority of the land arid, but I think you would have loved the view.”

Ignatz’s eyes grew misty and distant. “Even just what little you described sounds almost fantastical. So, there is more than just the ruins like when we fought the Windcaller?”

Lorenz nodded. “You know, I think there are a few Srengish students in attendance. I can provide you with a letter of introduction, so if you and Leonie wish to travel in Sreng unmolested, I may be able to arrange something.”

Ignatz perked up and gave Lorenz a grin that spoke of just how long Raphael and Ignatz had been friends--their expressions were remarkably similar when they were moved by a powerful emotion. “That would be wonderful! Thank you so much. I don’t know how I could ever repay--I know! Have you had an official portrait of yourself done yet?”

“What? Ah, no, I have not,” Lorenz said. “The Gloucesters usually have an official portrait done to commemorate the newest Count’s ascension, but I did not have the time or funds to do so.”

“Then, when you have the chance, I’d like to make your portrait,” Ignatz said. “Free of charge.”

“Ignatz, that is too generous,” Lorenz protested. “I know that it is likely you are nowhere near finished the funds you received as a commission from the church, but I wouldn’t have you work for free.”

“I’m painting a friend’s portrait,” Ignatz said with a hesitant smile. “And the ability to travel freely through other countries, painting the scenery as I go, is worth more than any payment.”

Lorenz blinked, then nodded slowly. “If you say so. I’ll see about drafting that letter. Why don’t we set a time for tea? That way I can describe to you what to look out for when you travel in Sreng.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” Ignatz seemed to almost _chirp_. “Do you have time today?”

“Certainly. How about this afternoon around 3?”

“I’ll make sure to be there!”

“Wonderful. Ah, I do have one more question. Do you know where I might find Lysithea?”

“She’s likely either helping Hanneman teach or is at the Research Lab,” Ignatz said after a moment’s thought. 

“Thank you,” Lorenz said with a sincere smile. “I’ll see you for tea at 3.”

“Indeed! See you then.”

To get to the Research Lab, Lorenz had to pass by some of the newly-constructed practice yards, and was brought up short by Felix’s barking: "You. Get over here."

The heavy undercurrent of embarrassed rage in Felix's tone as the weapons instructor marched over to him was the only thing that kept Lorenz from ignoring the command. 

"Is something wrong?" Lorenz asked, wary.

"I need to kill my husband. It won't take long," Felix said simply. "Make sure none of the students hurt themselves during their drills."

"Very well," Lorenz said and followed Felix into the practice yard. Felix continued to stalk past the students and to Sylvain, who was leaning against a pillar, wearing a shit-eatting grin and little else, his armor in a pile next to him.

"Dare I ask what was happening?" Lorenz asked Catherine, who had apparently been Felix's demonstration partner.

"Oh, the usual whenever Sylvain visits," Catherine said with a wry smirk as Felix's scolding of Sylvain was interrupted by Sylvain kissing Felix into silence. "Every time one of the students makes a mistake, Sylvain removes a piece of armor. This distracts the students, which causes them to make more mistakes, so more armor comes off. Sylvain has a talent for making Felix's instructions suggestive, and if that distracts Felix enough to make a mistake, two pieces of armor come off. That can go on for a while, until we get to this point."

 _This point_ was Felix tossing Sylvain out of the training yard and throwing his armor out after him, his face beet red while Sylvain howled with laughter.

"He does that everytime?" Lorenz asked, dubious. "No one has attempted to stop him?"

"Oh, people have tried--his spouses, the Professor, Seteth, the students," Catherine ticked off on her fingers. "No change. He only does it once per visit, though, so the minute he rides through the gates, betting begins on when he'll torment Felix. He apparently does something to Annette, too, but I've never witnessed it because it is apparently subtle enough that the students don’t notice until Annette chases him away with carefully-aimed magic."

"A rather impressive feat for Sylvain, given that he’s not particularly _subtle_ ,” Lorenz drawled.

Catherine snorted. “It’s weirdly cute, in a way.”

“Cute?” Lorenz repeated, incredulity lacing his tone.

“Oh, yeah,” Catherine said. “Felix is such a hardass that it’s almost fun seeing him flustered, and the fact that Sylvain cares so little about his own reputation just to see his spouses bothered is...well, like I said, weirdly cute.”

Lorenz shook his head slowly. “If you say so.”

“You know, it’s been a while since we sparred last, Lorenz,” Catherine said. “Have the time?”

“Why don’t you be my sparring partner tomorrow morning?” Lorenz offered. “I have things I need to get done today, but I would relish the chance to practice with someone of your caliber again.”

Catherine laughed. “You could’ve just said _yes,_ you didn’t need all the extra flowery words. So, tomorrow bright and early?”

“I will see you then.” 

Lysithea was, unfortunately, not at the Magical Research Lab, although he did run into Raphael and Bernadetta walking arm-in-arm though the grounds on his way out of the laboratory.

“Good morning,” Lorenz called out.

Raphael bellowed back the greeting and waved, which caused Bernadetta to _meep_ and hide behind him before she cautiously gave Lorenz a more tentative wave and smile. They had never interacted much, and Lorenz felt almost _bad_ for her--she was a noble, and yet so skittish and easily frightened. Her family had failed her when it came to her upbringing, so he was grateful that Raphael had brought her out of her shell and made her more _involved_ in the day-to-day affairs of the Empire. After all, Ferdinand couldn’t do _everything_.

Lorenz did not expect Raphael to sweep his wife into a bridal carry and walk over to him, eventually shifting so that she was perched against his hip, her arms around his shoulders, but he did. 

“Hey, Lorenz, you busy?” Raphael asked.

“Just looking for Lysithea and arranging meetings, so not terribly, no,” Lorenz said. “What are you up to?”

“Bernie-bear and I are heading towards the dining hall to help prepare lunch.”

“Already?” Lorenz said, surprised.

“The kitchen staff say I’m really good at cleaning the baked-on grease and stuff off of pots and pans, so I always help clean up and Bernie can do her embroidery. Then when it’s all clean, I’m her sous chef for when she helps make the food!” Raphael proclaimed proudly.

Bernadetta was blushing, but she was also _smiling_ , which Lorenz knew to be a relatively rare expression--there was also obvious, exasperated love in her gaze. Somehow, Raphael’s overwhelming nature and affable charm had won her heart, and it was...sweet. 

“Well, then I shall make sure to take lunch today in order to try out some of Bernadetta’s cooking.”

“She’s the best!” Raphael said and gave her a kiss, which made her cover her face in embarrassment; but only for a moment, she quickly returning the brief kiss, making _Raphael_ blush slightly. 

_This is cute. Why is this cute?_ Lorenz mused. 

“He exaggerates,” Bernadetta said, her voice fond. “I’m not that good.”

“Raphael would not compliment you unduly, I think,” Lorenz said. “While I don’t think I’d be much help in the kitchen, would you two be adverse to taking lunch or tea with me?”

“I’d love to! How about you, Bernie-bear?” Raphael said.

Bernadetta fidgeted for a moment, then nodded resolutely. “Okay. As long as we take it in the kitchen or in the garden, where there aren’t so many people around.”

“It would be my honor to dine so with you two,” Lorenz said. 

Bernadetta graced him with a smile before squirming enough that Raphael put her down. She took Raphael’s hand in hers, then extended her free hand to Lorenz. It was shaking slightly, betraying her nerves--while Lorenz was a _known_ , they still didn’t know each other terribly well.

So, Lorenz took Berndetta’s hand and pressed a polite kiss to the back of it and said, “I will see you both at lunch time.”

“Awesome,” Raphael said as Bernadetta pulled her hand back, looking rather proud of herself. 

“See you then, L-Lorenz,” Bernadetta said before walking off with her much larger husband. 

_Now, where could Lysithea be?_ Lorenz thought, not bothering to stop a smile as he watched them. _Wait, didn’t Ignatz say she sometimes helps Hanneman with lectures?_

“Aha! Got you!”

Lorenz just dodged in time, avoiding Leonie’s hand as she reached out to grab him.

“Can I help you?” Lorenz asked, straightening his clothes as he sought to settle his panicked heart. He _strongly_ disliked being ambushed.

“Been dying to talk with you one-on-one,” Loenie said and clapped Lorenz on the shoulder with enough force that his knees bent slightly. “C’mon, walk with me.”

“Leonie--” Lorenz began before sighing and following her to the walls of Garreg Mach, which provided a breathtaking view of the surrounding town in the mid-morning. “How can I help you?”

“So...did Claude fill you in on what happened last night?” she asked, leaning against the wall.

“I did not ask,” Lorenz admitted. “Please tell me you weren’t too rude or invasive.”

“We only were a _little_ bad, and Claude is good at shutting people _down_ ,” Leonie said and ran her fingers through her hair. “I swear, if we had been sparring, I would have been seeing stars from his take-down.”

“You undoubtedly deserved it, then,” Lorenz said dryly.

Leonie snorted at that. “You would think that, huh? Like hearing that Claude defended your honor?”

“...what do you want, Leonie?”

“I want to know if you two are a thing,” Leonie said, leaning against the wall. “But, more than that, I want to make sure you both are happy, y’know?”

Lorenz frowned sharply at that. “What?”

“Well, Claude’s always racing towards the horizon, and you were always the only person besides Hilda who could get him to _stop_ long enough to breathe. Hilda seemed to turn the techniques she uses on her brother against Claude, but you...he _listened_ to you. It was a weird thing to watch at the time, because it was clear you didn’t _like_ each other, that there was competition. Neither of you wanted to seem weak in the eyes of the other.”

“Well, he was the leader of the Alliance, and it would be a disgrace and a poor example to set if he had neglected his own well-being,” Lorenz said. “ _Someone_ had to look out for him when Hilda wasn’t successful, and I…” _Knew the right way to be annoying?_ “...intuited the correct way to shame him into taking the required rest.”

Leonie shook her head and said, “Guess you did. And now?”

“What about now?”

“I mean, absolutely _none_ of us are surprised that you two have gone from competing and disliking each other to potentially being more, but…” Leonie shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, I’ve traveled all throughout Fodlan and seen the good you’ve done, and I suppose that I just...want _you_ to be happy. Everyone else has _someone_ \--I mean, Mercedes is close friends with Alois, even if they aren’t _together_ -together--but it seems like all you have is Fodlan, and a country isn’t going to be there to feed you chicken soup and prop you up with pillows when you’re feeling like death and drowning in snot from a runny nose.”

“True, I suppose,” Lorenz said. “But--”

“Nuh-uh, no buts,” Leonie said. “I overheard what Claude said to you, and I think you really oughta give that a good, hard thought. If you had freedom, if you could live for yourself, if you had no one to answer to, no noble obligations to fulfill, what would you do with your life?”

“As a mercenary, I would think you’d be much more focused on practical realities than wool-gathering,” Lorenz pseudo-scolded.

“It’s called planning for the future, not wool-gathering,” Leonie responded drolly. “Look, you can be a pompous douchebag, but you’re _our_ pompous douchebag, and we want you to be happy, too. So, give what Claude said some thought and _maybe_ take a chance on him. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? I know both of you wouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of politics or the ‘good of the nation,’ or whatever, so you’ll just end up working with each other as, uh, dignitaries or whatever. So, promise me you’ll consider what Claude said.”

“Very well,” Lorenz sighed.

“Good.”

With that, Leonie left.

Lorenz watched her go, then sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair. _Give Claude a chance? Is it even worth it? What would something with him even look like? No, it...it doesn’t matter. There’s no use for planning for a future that will never exist. Nevertheless…_

Lorenz’s idle, vague musings were interrupted by Annette putting herself in front of him, her face almost the same shade as her hair.

“Good morning, Professor Annette,” Lorenz said, not liking the glare that the petite woman was giving him. “Can I help you with something?”

“Syvlain was harassing Felix so he wouldn’t bother me!” Annette huffed. “I had just gotten into the swing of my lesson when he showed up again. I have his and Felix’s timing down, I should have been able to get my students to the point where they were doing group work before he returned to report Felix had kicked him out of the practice yard again. But _you_ showing up gave Felix an excuse and an opening, so I had to deal with Sylvain for a half hour longer than I normally would have! My poor students.”

“Sylvain is responsible for his own poor behavior, not I,” Lorenz pointed out. “But, if it would make you feel better, might I offer my assistance for a guest lecture so you can give Sylvain the appropriate talking-to?”

That seemed to mollify Annette. “Tomorrow? I have things scheduled for today, but I suppose I wouldn't mind the break for a seminar from you.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Lorenz lied. He’d rather take a spear to the stomach than deal with students any day. “You reminded me of something I need to do, so, if you’ll excuse me…?”

“Remember, you’re lecturing for class tomorrow.”

“Of course, I will be there,” Lorenz said and left the environs of the Officer’s Academy for the Cathedral, where people were less likely to bother him even if they spotted him; as long as it looked like he was praying, he _should_ be okay. Right? He had quite a bit to mull over, and he was certain that he could track down anyone who he hadn’t managed to set up a tea time with at the feast or in the following days. There was, for at least the moment, no rush, and there were _plenty_ of other things that required his attention.

 _When we were in my room, was I flirting with him?_ Lorenz wondered after he settled onto the hard wooden bench in the Cathedral, closed his eyes, and bowed his head as if in prayer. _And if I was, what does that mean for what I feel about him? You flirt with someone you’re interested in romantically, and I will not deny that there was a certain...thrill..seeing Claude look so flustered. But, was I just teasing him and abusing the knowledge that he is attracted to me, or do I feel the same way?_

The answer was not nearly as clear cut as Lorenz would have liked. Because, even if he _was_ attracted to Claude, did it really matter? It changed nothing about their roles in life, and would likely only _complicate_ matters. If Lorenz was ruthlessly honest with himself, he also wasn’t sure that he’d be able to provide Claude with the kind of love that he needed and wanted. Sure, Lorenz wrote romantic poetry, but those were all dim and watery reflections of how he observed other people to react to and interact with love, lines taken from novels and songs and repurposed to something Lorenz could understand. Claude wanted a romance for the ages, something that bards would sing songs about; the only songs Lorenz could think of being sung about any kind of love between him and Claude were tragedies, warnings of desiring something one couldn’t or shouldn’t have. 

At the same time, he couldn’t deny that Claude made him feel... _something_ . He liked being flirted with genuinely, it made him feel warm. However, a part of him feared that, once he had a taste of Claude’s affections, it wouldn’t be enough, and the Gloucesters had a fairly long family history of just _taking_ what they wanted if they desired it strongly enough with only a passing regard for what the other person’s opinion was. A Gloucester’s love, if it could even be called _love,_ was selfish, greedy, hungry, dangerous. It was consuming and controlling. Claude deserved better than that. 

Lorenz rubbed his temples and sighed softly. _So, then, I have to tell him we can’t be anything, right?_

Lorenz wasn’t expecting the gut-wrenching _anger_ he felt at that thought. Claude said he was attracted to him, that he wanted him, and he was just going to _let go_ of someone who claimed to desire him? What kind of man was he, to let that pass him by? After all he had done for Fodlan, he deserved some form of reward, and the world was handing him the King of Almyra as a potential lover--perhaps even husband, if Lorenz played his cards right. How could he turn that down?

 _Make him yours,_ purred a part of him that had his father’s voice, a part that would sacrifice Claude’s heart on the altar of ambition without a second thought. _The Riegan Dukedom would be yours, then, so even if the Professor is overthrown, you will have claim to the Alliance. Your power would be secure._

Lorenz shook his head slowly in a reflexive attempt to dislodge the unworthy thoughts. _No. After his childhood, Claude deserves nice things, beautiful things, and I...I am not those things. Not where it matters._ _Perhaps I’ll spend some time talking to the students at the feast,_ Lorenz thought. _It feels wrong, almost like robbing the cradle, but most of the noblewomen my age are already wed, so I’ll have to have a younger bride. It feels dirty, but I suppose it’s my fault for waiting for so long. Leonie is right, Fodlan won’t care for me when I am sick or hurting, I need a wife. I’m sure there is a woman out there that is right for Claude. When we are in Almyra together, I will...I will help him find her._

Possessive anger yawned open beneath him at the thought of Claude flirting with someone else, looking at anyone besides him with delicious, low heat, promises in his eyes and an alluring smirk on his lips. Claude had said he was attracted to _him_! No one else could have him!

 _No, don’t think like that,_ Lorenz thought and ran his fingers through his hair as he struggled to keep his breathing even and expression serene. _He belongs to no one but himself. Trying to possess him would be like...would be like clipping the wings of a bird and caging him. He’d never sing again and would waste away to nothing. No, it’s better...it’s better for the both of us if I don’t enter into a relationship with him. I have to convince him to not choose me and then I have to let him_ go _. I can’t tell him that I hate him now, because I don’t, but...I can probably make myself hate him again. At the very least, I might be able to resent him? For making me feel such unworthy things, for trying to lure me from the path of righteous nobility?_

It would hurt, for certain, because it would require lying to himself constantly and rephrasing everything Claude said that was meant in good faith and flirtation into something manipulative and mocking, but he could do it. The only problem would be if Claude realized what Lorenz was attempting to do, because he knew that Claude would try to intervene. But, he couldn’t let Claude get any closer, or else he would end up hurting the other man irreparably, he was sure of it, and hadn’t the man already been hurt enough? 

It wasn’t easy, and it took a _long_ time, but Lorenz eventually corralled the anger and hunger back into the mausoleum in his heart where it belonged. Claude deserved a happy ending. Lorenz simply didn’t want to be another villain in a long, distinguished line of them, and it was already a continuous struggle to follow the guiding star of his education and religion and not cave to his blood and upbringing. 

Around noon, there was a commotion as the news of the arrival of the Brigid Queens burned through the Monastery.

 _All of us who survived the war are here again,_ Lorenz thought as he stood from his seat in the pews. _How far we have all come. Well, it’s lunch time anyway, so I should see about locating Bernadetta and Raphael._

Lorenz wandered from the Cathedral to the dining hall, which was bustling with the lunch hour, and poked his head into the kitchen. It wasn’t hard to spot Raphael, who also caught sight of Lorenz in return. Raphael waved, then physically picked up Bernadetta, who voiced a quiet shriek before _laughing_ and clinging to her large, muscular husband. 

“Shall we take lunch in the gazebo?” Lorenz asked and shoved some food in a small basket. 

“Sounds good to me,” Raphael said and, together, they left the kitchen to take lunch in slightly quieter surroundings. Lorenz had to grab a chair from a nearby garden, since Raphael took up too much space on the bench and Lorenz didn’t want to squeeze.

“Thank you for having lunch with me,” Lorenz said.

“No problem!” Raphael said as he made a ‘plate’ for Bernadetta first before putting something together for himself.

“Do you often spend time here at Garreg Mach?” Lorenz asked.

“Not really,” Raphael said. “We don’t travel much. Ferdinand usually visits if something super important to the Empire has come up, but when we heard you and Claude’d be visiting, we had to stop by.”

Bernadetta looked a little less enthusiastic, but eventually said, “I...suppose it’s nice to get out and about every now and then. Seteth asks for my help illustrating his books sometimes, so I needed to drop off a couple pictures anyway.”

“Oh? I think I remember him roping Hilda into helping sometimes as well…”

Their conversation was a leisurely meander amongst a variety of topics, but Lorenz eventually grew too curious--in spite of his best efforts--at the imploring looks from Raphael met with disapproval from Bernadetta that he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“There are some things people should be allowed to keep private,” Bernadetta said. “It’s called _personal_ for a reason.”

“But if it’s just a yes or no answer, would it be bad?” Raphael wheedled.

“Would you be able to accept just a yes or no answer?” Bernadetta asked. 

“I think so, yeah.”

“If you really will, then you can ask.”

Raphael looked to Lorenz. “So, uh. Are you and Claude together? It’s a yes or no answer, you don’t have to say anything else.”

Most of Raphael’s charm came from how utterly without guile he was, but Lorenz still found himself ill-at-ease from the question.

“No, we aren’t together,” Lorenz answered.

Raphael looked bizarrely crestfallen. “Aw, that’s too bad.”

“You...are of the opinion that we _should_ be together?” Lorenz asked cautiously.

“Of course!” Raphael said. 

“...why?”

“Because you two make a good team,” Raphael replied.

That was an unexpected answer, and made Lorenz blink. “We could hardly stand each other before now. What on earth makes you think we make a good team?”

“Well, you have strengths he doesn’t have, and he has strengths you don’t have,” Raphael said. “So, when there’s something he can’t do, you _can_ do it, and if there’s something you can’t do, he can handle it. The only problem is that both of you think you can do everything alone. Maybe, if you try, you’ll see you can do more as a team than as two separate people who sometimes work together?”

“He is the King of Almyra and I am the leader of the Alliance Territories,” Lorenz said. “We necessarily must stand alone and above all others. It is unbecoming for a noble to rely too heavily on another.”

“Nobles are human, too,” Raphael pointed out as he put his arm around Bernadetta. “They need people to lean on when they’re scared or tired or hungry or feeling weak. Someone who will make their favorite meal or wrap them up in a cozy blanket and hold them when everything becomes too much.”

“And you think Claude and I can be that and do that for each other?”

“Can’t see why not.”

“Life is…” Bernadetta hesitated when Lorenz looked to her after she spoke, and she only continued when Lorenz waited long enough. “Being alone is nice and a lot less effort, but stuffed animals can’t hug you back when you have nightmares and make the bad memories go away.”

Lorenz took a sip of tea, mulling over what the two had said. “ I see.”

“Good!” Raphael said. “So, what do you think of the food? Bernadetta’s cooking is awesome, right?”

Lorenz couldn’t stop a small smile as Bernadetta _squeaked_ as Raphael pulled her a little closer and pressed a kiss to her temple, his hand large enough to cover her entire far shoulder. 

“It is delicious,” Lorenz agreed. Bernadetta’s face flushed bright red at the compliment and she buried her face in her hands to ‘hide’.

Raphael cajoled Bernadetta into letting her hands fall into her lap, and conversation drifted away from Lorenz and Claude to a more general catch-up and idle reminiscence. Seeing Bernadetta and Raphael interact was somehow _heartwarming_ , even if there was a part of Lorenz that marveled at their interactions. There was such gentle affection between them, and Lorenz gained at least an inkling of an understanding of what Raphael meant by _sharing strength_ by watching and listening to them. However, the longer he spent with them, the more he felt like ants were crawling under his skin, and he couldn’t figure out _why_ he felt...disgusted wasn’t the right word, jealous wasn’t quite correct either, he was simply...uncomfortable, so excused himself when he couldn’t tolerate the squirming discontent he felt any longer. 

_Running away?_ Lorenz thought once he had extricated himself from his lunch partners. _How...unbecoming. But, there was no need to remain uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to say anything I would regret. The question is...why? Why was I so uncomfortable?_

Lorenz found himself in the greenhouse again, staring at the roses that were blooming, and let out a long, slow sigh. _Can I be Claude’s strength? Would he be mine? Would we make an even halfway acceptable team? Is that what a relationship should truly be? A sharing of both strengths and weaknesses, not judging the other person based on their failings but instead caring for them in spite of their flaws and attempting to help them improve? Before they were in a relationship, Bernadetta was a hermit and Raphael wasn’t half as polished as he is now. They...improved each other and are the other’s support. Could I...could I have that with Claude? But, to achieve that, I’d have to tell him…_

Lorenz took a deep breath of the fragrance of the roses and tried to settle his heart. While a part of him yearned for that kind of softness, he also found himself wondering if it was _realistic_. Bernadetta, while responsible for a small part of the Empire lands, wasn’t as entrenched in governance like Lorenz was. Perhaps her position afforded her the luxury of love. Bernadetta, whom he thought was destined for a life of solitude and obscurity, had found a husband, while he was still struggling to find a wife. It...rankled slightly. 

_Do not be envious of another’s good fortune,_ Lorenz reprimanded himself. _If anything, look upon her situation as a good thing. If she was able to find a husband, there is absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t be able to._

Lorenz paused, rewound the sentence in his head, then sighed silently. _I’m not marrying Claude._

Lorenz eventually had to vacate the greenhouse, as students began to swarm it to obtain decorations for the feast, and Lorenz secured himself water, tea leaves, and a tray of snacks for his tea with Ignatz, then found a seat in the garden. It had taken more than a fair bit of practice, but he had learned enough control over his fire spell that he could use it to heat water to the perfect tea temperature. It was a parlor trick, and left him feeling a little silly for abusing such awesome power in such a way, but it was too _useful_ for him to feel bad for long.

 _Perhaps...I will withhold my judgement on whether or not I should pursue a relationship with Claude until I speak to everyone,_ Lorenz thought. _My own perspective may be too close and narrow, and others’ viewpoints might hold value. I will ask them their thoughts and listen to their opinion, and once I have spoken to all the people whose perspective I care about, I shall make my decision. A well-informed and thoughtful decision is better than one hastily made._

A few minutes after the Cathedral bells stopped chiming three, Ignatz came racing into the garden. He shot Lorenz an apologetic smile as he sat down across from him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ignatz apologized. “I was busy attempting to replicate some of the techniques I saw in the Almyran artbook, to...marginal success.”

“I’m sure it’s just a matter of practice for you,” Lorenz said as he poured them both a cup of the Lavender Blend. While he personally found lavender a little overpowering, it did have a calming effect on him, and after the conversations he had had throughout the day, he could use a little _calming_. “I must apologize myself, as I haven’t had time to write up your letter to the Sreng ambassador. I will make sure to have it to you before I leave for Gloucester territory, though.”

“Oh, no worries at all!” Ignatz said and took the offered tea, his shoulders dropping slightly at the scent. “I love this blend.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Lorenz murmured in response. 

“Were you able to find Lysithea?” Ignatz asked.

“No, unfortunately,” Lorenz said. “But, I still have a few days at Garreg Mach, I am certain I will locate her in time.”

“May I ask what you wanted to speak with her about?”

“Oh, as I’m to be the Fodlanese ambassador to Almyra, I can’t run the Alliance _and_ live in a foreign country, so I wanted to float the idea of serving as the Alliance leader to her. I know she has renounced her nobility, but she is shrewd, intelligent, and would not allow others to even dream about pushing her around. I am going to ask Marianne if she will serve first out of respect for Lysithea’s decision, but I also am aware that Marianne still isn’t fully comfortable in her position as Magravine and wouldn’t want to force something unwanted upon her.”

“So, you’ll be returning to Almyra with Claude?” Ignatz asked, and Lorenz could _see_ him starting to try to angle the conversation to the question of if there was something between him (Lorenz) and the Almyran King. 

“I will be, yes,” Lorenz affirmed. “I spoke with Leonie earlier today and had the feeling that Claude took you all to task for being...nosy.”

Ignatz coughed into his hand, his face flushing. “Yes, he did.”

“I hear a ‘but’.”

“His telling us to mind our own business only increased speculation,” Ignatz admitted. “And your position and discussion in the greenhouse yesterday _was_ quite intimate, so…”

“Raphael thinks that Claude and I would make a good team, that our strengths are complimentary,” Lorenz said. “Why do _you_ think Claude and I should be together?”

“On a shallow level, you two simply make a compelling picture,” Ignatz said. “Physically, the height difference makes for visual variety, and purple and gold are complimentary colors. If I knew it would not have gotten me in trouble with both you and Claude, I would have sketched your conversation in the greenhouse. Your expressions, the pose, the background of the lush greens and flowers...it was almost like something out of a storybook or romance novel.”

“Is that so,” Lorenz said, unsure why he felt _irritated_. 

“I didn’t sketch it, of course,” Ignatz said hurriedly, clearly catching the note in Lorenz’s voice. “It would have been rude.”

“Thank you for being so considerate,” Lorenz murmured.

“But there’s more to it than that,” Ignatz pressed on. “I agree with Raphael. You have complementary strengths. I think that, besides the Professor, you were the only one able to match Claude’s pace. You’re both very ambitious men and both want the best for your respective people, even if you have different thoughts on how to go about it, but are also, uh…”

“Yes, Ignatz?”

“You’re both a little too proud to admit when you really need help and are drowning under your responsibilities. It might not hurt either of you to have someone to share your ambitions with, to divide the labor so that the dreams you are both chasing are more easily in reach. And if you can achieve as much as you have alone, imagine what you could accomplish if you worked together. You could revolutionize the world.”

“...perhaps,” Lorenz murmured. “What painting have you been working on lately?”

Ignatz perked up slightly and was happy to talk about his most recent composition, and Lorenz paid attention with three-quarters of an ear, mulling over what Ignatz had said.

 _If we can accomplish as much as we have on our own, what would joining forces result in? Certainly it would leave the world forever marked,_ Lorenz mused. 

Eventually they ran out of tea and topics of conversation, and parted ways after that, Lorenz dropping off the tea pot and sweets tray back in the kitchen, which was working overtime. Lorenz caught sight of Bernadetta, Mercedes, Ashe, and Manuela all helping out with cooking, and quickly made himself scarce. He had dodged kitchen duty his entire time at Garreg Mach through judicious application of bribes and had no intention of being roped in to help. 

The dining hall itself seemed almost transformed, flowers decorating every surface, with an extra table set up draped in the heraldry of Brigid, Fodlan, and Almyra, seats clearly meant for each of the respective rulers present. Lorenz would likely be sitting amongst the students, since he didn’t _rule_ anything, but was, perhaps...the administrator of the Alliance Territories on behalf of the Professor. 

And now he was planning on surrendering all that power? For what purpose? To travel with Claude to Almyra as an ambassador? What power did an _ambassador_ have? They were little more than tools of the sovereign of their nation with no clout of their own. Why was he willingly giving up control of an entire nation? Was he insane? After all his hard work he was giving it up for _Claude_ , of all people?

 _I suppose so,_ Lorenz thought as he dodged the bustling servants and students, eventually finding space to breathe in the garden gazebo. _My family is not going to take this news well._

“Hey, there you are!”

Lorenz looked up from contemplating the grass to see Claude approaching him. “Ah, hello, Claude.”

“Something eating at you?” Claude asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“No,” Lorenz lied. “They’re displaying the Almyran heraldry in the dining hall.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Claude said. “Well, it’s not like it’s a secret who I am. It kinda came out when I was talking to everyone last night and it wasn’t hard for someone else to overhear, and the next morning _everyone_ all around campus knows who I am. Garreg Mach really does live for gossip. It must drive Seteth insane.”

“I imagine,” Lorenz drawled.

“I already talked with Teach, though, and I don’t have to stay seated at the dignitaries table all night,” Claude said. “They agreed that it would be good for me to introduce myself to the other students and whatnot, get the Fodlanese people used to an Almyran presence and so on. So, what’ve you been up to all day?”

“Catching up with friends, primarily,” Lorenz said. _And thinking a great deal._ “I’m enjoying the opportunity. I don’t have the chance to see many of the Golden Deer House, if only because so many of them are constantly traveling, and there always seem to be more problems to solve than time to solve said problems in.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Claude sighed. 

“Thinking of your kingdom?”

“I can’t help but worry a little,” Claude said with a sheepish smile. “I know my parents both ruled capably for decades before I ascended and that they are both healthy, shrewd, and competent people, but…”

“I would be more concerned if you weren’t worried,” Lorenz said. “Your reign is still young and you said you have taken on many challenges. It’s not a surprise that you worry.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Claude said with a lop-sided smile. “Do you think I’m expected to make a speech?”

“As your formal introduction to the Monastery, I expect you’ll have to give a few words, but I doubt that the Professor will have you do anything more extensive than that. Just say something inspiring about moving into a new dawn for both Fodlan and the world due to our treaty, or something like that, and I’m sure that will be enough.”

“A new dawn, huh?”

“You’re the charismatic speaker, not I,” Lorenz said. “I never stirred the hearts of the Alliance army when we were on campaign, that was something I left to you and the Professor.”

“True enough,” Claude agreed. “Maybe I should consult with them, make sure we’re all on message.”

“Go and craft your speech,” Lorenz said and nudged Claude towards where he saw Dorothea, and where there was Dorothea, Petra was not usually far away. “I am going nowhere.”

“You...you’re not just going to leave, right? You simply need time and space to think.”

“Yes,” Lorenz said and placed a hand on Claude’s shoulder. “It’s a lot to consider, and I’m not going to mysteriously vanish without giving you a solid answer. I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Claude said. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned his head enough that he could press a gentle kiss to Lorenz’s hand, giving him a small, alluring smile. Lorenz quickly removed his hand, badly suppressing a blush.

“Shoo. The feast looks like it’ll be starting soon,” Lorenz said. “Go plan your remarks with the Professor and Petra. I am sure it will not be hard to find me.”

“No, it won't,” Claude said and ran his fingers through Lorenz’s hair, pressing a light kiss to the tips of the strands before turning and walking away.

Lorenz was pretty sure he heard wistful sighs from passing students, and shoved his embarrassment down.

 _If I do not react, it will not encourage bad behavior,_ Lorenz thought.

It seemed like _everyone_ in the monastery wanted to be part of the feast, and Lorenz quickly realized that he had to secure a seat for himself or else would end up eating outside, and _bugs_ came out at night, so he found himself a comfortable spot on one of the long benches and watched the swirl of activity around him. As long as he stayed still, he was treated not much unlike another piece of furniture by the servants and the students were a pleasure to speak with whenever they processed who he was and found the courage to actually engage him. 

Shortly after the Cathedral bells tolled the dinner hour, Ferdinand, the Professor, Petra, Dorothea, and Claude all walked in and took up their spots. Lorenz would have to admit that seeing Claude sitting with other royalty felt...right. 

_How entertaining, though, that all the world leaders have spouses taller than themselves,_ Lorenz mused. _And if Claude and I were--_

Lorenz stopped the thought before it could go anywhere further or dangerous and discarded it, focusing on the beautiful, hopeful message all three leaders issued jointly; they looked equally relieved when they could tell people to just _start eating_. 

He wasn’t surprised when Claude clearly made excuses, then came right over to him and plopped himself down beside Lorenz. There was a tense ‘ _what do we do_?!’ pause from everyone nearby and Lorenz said, “Khalid is mostly harmless, and I’m sure he’d love to answer any questions you might have about Almyra, so please ask. You are here to learn, and who is more of an expert on Almyra than her king?”

That started a hesitant chain of questions, and the tension slowly drained from the Fodlanese students. After knowing Almyrans as enemies for so long, it was clearly a bit of a struggle, but they were all young enough to be open-minded, and _Lorenz_ felt oddly proud of how quickly everyone relaxed. 

_We_ are _building a new world, aren’t we?_ Lorenz thought, pleased. 

Unlike normal dining hall dinners, the food was plated and served, since that cut down on the amount of people moving at any one time and thus minimized accidents.

“Khalid, go talk to other people,” Lorenz said and nudged Claude with his elbow when the conversation around them hit a lull. “You and I are going to spend plenty of time together in the future. Go sit with Annette for a while. You and Felix can tease her about her songs.”

Claude looked _reluctant_ to leave. “Lorenz...”

“I doubt anyone will take your seat,” Lorenz said. “I suppose my good looks are too intimidating.”

Claude snorted at that, then gave Lorenz a small smile. “Alright. But, this seat is mine for whenever I return. Got it?”

“Of course, your Royal Majesty.”

Claude used Lorenz’s shoulder to help him stand, then meandered down the rows back to where Annette and some of the other Officers Academy professors were seated, giving Annette a kiss on the cheek that made her laugh and blush prettily. Lorenz hated how his traitor-heart twisted at such a simple display of affection.

 _It is good that I managed to convince him to leave,_ Lorenz sighed internally. _Perhaps now it will be easier for me to talk to the other students and gain a sense of whether or not I have any marriage prospects._

With the absence of Claude, the void around Lorenz quickly filled in; his attention was drawn by a young woman with the pale silver-blonde hair and glacial blue eyes of the Srengish people sitting beside him. She gave him a shy smile, and Lorenz placed her face after a moment. “Your mother was one of the High Chancellors in the Srengish government, wasn’t she?”

The student brightened at Lorenz’s recognition. “Yes, sir! I actually watched the proceedings, and your poise and eloquence was what caused me to beg my mother to send me to Garreg Mach.”

“Is that so? I’m flattered,” Lorenz said with an easy smile. “Have you found your time here to be as you had hoped?”

“Oh, quite,” she said, nodding. “It’s much warmer than I’m used to, though!”

“I can imagine,” Lorenz agreed. “It was quite chilly in the Srengish capital. I don’t think I’ve ever worn that many layers before.”

“You looked quite dashing in the furs the royal family provided for you as a gift. How you modified them set the precedent for court fashion for a year afterwards!”

“You are far too kind,” Lorenz replied. “Besides the weather, have you had any difficulties adapting to Fodlan?”

Lorenz was torn between being relieved, grateful, and suspicious as he drew increasing attention from the female members of the student body. Having the young women actually interested in him would make finding a potential partner easier. The only real concern would be to sift out those who were looking to say they slept with Count Gloucester, the most powerful man in the Alliance, from those who were willing to bind their life and future to him. 

It was damnably hard not to preen from all the attention, and Lorenz happily lost himself in idle conversation and flirtation, particularly since it helped suppress the strange, anxious anger in his heart over Claude’s absence. He shouldn’t have sent Claude away, Claude was _his_ , what if someone tried to seduce him?

 _Then they try and if they are successful, I will know Claude was not entirely serious about me,_ Lorenz told himself and swallowed down the seething discontent that threatened to spill over into his interactions.

Lorenz wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his conversation was interrupted by Claude saying in a surprisingly clipped, annoyed tone: “Excuse me, but you’re in my seat.”

Lorenz did _not_ expect Claude to wedge himself in between him (Lorenz) and the young lady seated to his right, causing a chain reaction down the bench that eventually ended up with the person on the very edge of the bench plopping onto the floor, to the uproarious laughter of the other students.

“Claude, that was _rude_ ,” Lorenz scolded, even if he was strangely pleased by Claude’s actions.

Claude looked nonplussed. “I told you to keep the seat for me. It was rude of _you_ to ignore my request. Or should I have made it an order, Count Gloucester?”

“You may be a king, but you’re not _my_ king, so I wouldn’t’ve been required to follow your orders anyway,” Lorenz remarked dryly. 

“Perhaps I should make you an honorary citizen of Almyra, then, hm?” Claude said as he settled himself with a new plate of food and began to shred the pheasant meat off of its bone and onto his plate. “You’d have to follow my orders then, right?” 

“Even as an honorary citizen, my loyalty would be to Fodlan first,” Lorenz responded. 

“Then how might I secure your _loyalty_?” Claude asked. 

“By not acting like a child,” Lorenz said dryly.

While Claude’s presence before had brought ease and levity to the conversation, his return seemed to completely flip the atmosphere on its head. Formerly light and casual conversations grew strained, since minor slights that Lorenz would have ignored out of courtesy were picked apart by Claude with almost medical precision.

“There’s no need to make polite small talk with someone who clearly doesn’t know a thing about you besides your name,” Claude commented mildly when Lorenz pointed his behavior out to him after a particularly cutting remark caused one of the young women whom Lorenz had been considering getting to know better to excuse herself and flee.

“Claude,” Lorenz sighed.

“What? I’m simply looking out for you,” Claude said, faking offended. “Helping you weed out the ones _unworthy_ of you. I know what it’s like for people to only see your title, and I would hazard that many of these young women see just that. You’re too smart, too strong, too handsome, to be concerning yourself with banal conversation with people who barely did any research on you and your preferences before speaking with you. You deserve to be impressed and inspired, not bored by witless dullards.”

Lorenz did not appreciate how effective the flattery was on his pride.

“You look particularly exquisite tonight,” Claude commented. “I know I asked earlier in your room, but where did you get these clothes? The only way you’d look even better is if you were wearing nothing at all.”

“ _Claude_.”

“What? It’s true.”

 _I know I said that he could flirt with me, but, by the goddess, I didn’t think he’d be this overt,_ Lorenz thought, flustered, as it finally processed just how much Claude had been _touching_ him. While they were all light, fleeting caresses, the summation felt like an extremely possessive and pointed arm around his shoulders, and Lorenz _knew_ he shouldn’t like it, but...he did? Why?

The final straw was when they were having a seemingly innocent discussion about horsemanship. 

“Oh, I would _adore_ taking you for a ride, I mean, going on a ride with you,” Claude purred low enough that only Lorenz would be able to hear, a small smirk on his lips.

“Would you _stop_?” Lorenz hissed equally quietly, whatever he had been about to say completely derailed.

Claude smirked and leaned in dangerously close. “Why don’t you make me? I won’t mind you giving my mouth something else to do besides make innuendos that even the more sheltered of students or non-native Fodlanese speakers are catching.”

 _Kiss him!_ Piped up an unhelpful part of Lorenz that excelled at getting him in trouble, so Lorenz viciously discarded that suggestion.

So, while it was much less dignified, and he was 95% certain that others would interpret it as flirting, Lorenz pulled Claude’s plate to him, speared a piece of pheasant on his fork, then held it out in offering to Claude. “You are spending more time making a fool of yourself than eating, so I suppose I’ll just have to _help_ you. You’re welcome, _Your Majesty_.”

Claude, the ass, looked _delighted_ by the turn of events. He almost _delicately_ took the bite of pheasant off the offered fork, and Lorenz would have sworn he heard the twitter of a new round of gossip start, particularly when Claude just looked at him expectantly once he was done with that bite of food.

“You are a nuisance,” Lorenz growled, but obligingly provided another piece to Claude, who happily took the bite. “But at least you are quiet now.”

Claude _smirked,_ eyes half-lidded and smouldering, and Lorenz hated that he liked the expression on the man.

 _So much for courting me like a proper Fodlanese noble,_ Lorenz thought darkly. _Not that I want him to. Damn, how am I going to break it to him that I will not enter into a relationship with him?_

Unfortunately, the amount of food on Claude’s plate was finite, so he did eventually run out of things to feed him, but by the end Claude was looking like so much a pleased cat that Lorenz wasn’t sure to laugh or scold him. 

“Congratulations, Your Majesty, you managed to drive away everyone else who wanted to talk to me,” Lorenz drawled, then reached over with his handkerchief and dabbed away the few crumbs that had collected on Claude’s face. “I hope you are pleased with yourself.”

“Immensely,” Claude said with a languid grin. 

“You _do_ understand that part of my duties as a diplomat involves _talking_ to other people,” Lorenz said. “And you monopolizing my time and attention is very childish behavior. You should be appalled with yourself. I assume this was my punishment for...teasing...you earlier?”

“You could consider it that, yeah,” Claude said, still not looking a lick apologetic. 

“Well, I firmly believe you crossed a line,” Lorenz said. “And since I doubt anyone will speak to me after this little stunt of yours, I am going to retire for the day.”

With that, Lorenz stood up and walked away, resolutely not looking back to see Claude’s reaction; it was not as difficult as he anticipated to ignore the whispers. _Those_ had followed him his entire life. His family’s skeletons had skeletons in their closets, and being first the son of the notorious Count and now the Count himself bred rumors like a battlefield bred flies.

 _That was_ awful, Lorenz thought as he retreated to the safety of his borrowed room. _What was he_ thinking _, flirting with me like that_ ?! _Why was he so...so…I never got the chance to tell him that we can’t be anything, either. Damn._

Now that he was alone and undressing, his body was reminding him of all the small, intimate touches, the simmering pleasure in Claude’s gaze at being the sole focus on Lorenz’s attention, and replayed every single blatant pass at him, leaving him feeling flustered and torn between annoyed and pleased. For, while Lorenz had been required to pay attention to Claude, Claude’s equally undivided attention had been...well, it had felt _good_ , and it shouldn’t have.

 _I’m not allowed to like that!_ He yelled at himself. _Him being so forward ruined all my plans! I am going to get him back for this, mark my words._

Lorenz flopped down on the bed and blinked when the scent of roses surrounded him. He sat up, then pulled back the covers to find that he had inadvertently squished a number of roses, all of which had been carefully dethorned. 

_How did he get in here?_ Lorenz wondered as he picked up each flower, mourning the few that were irreparably squished. _Oh, Claude, how am I going to tell you I can’t be with you and not break your heart?_

Lorenz stared at the half-dozen roses in his hands and swallowed hard as a hollow ache spread in his chest.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank you to everyone who reads, comments, or kudos--I like knowing I'm not just shouting into the void. You all are one of the things I was grateful for this year. 
> 
> CW: mentioned child abuse, psychological in nature
> 
> Lastly, nothing FE:3H belongs to me. I wouldn't be worrying about my finances if it did.

Taking care of Shadow had always been soothing to Lorenz, so he chased the stablehand away to tend to Shadow himself after coming back from a morning tour of the warhorse training trail, Shadow drenched in sweat, clearly winded but also ready for more. After the prior night’s events, Lorenz wanted some distance from Claude, so had made his way out of the dorm as quietly and early as possible. He also had inadvertently packed the day with other people to meet, with a morning spar with Catherine, a seminar for Annette, and tea with Ferdinand, although he hoped to end up meeting up with other people as well. He was looking forward to the distractions. 

“Settle down,” Lorenz chuckled to Shadow as he dismounted and began to take off Shadow’s tack. He fed Shadow an apple that he had stored in the stall prior to leaving for their round, then set about gathering all the cleaning and grooming tools and beginning to work. 

Claude’s behavior at the feast had only  _ complicated _ matters for Lorenz’s heart and mind, and during the night his dreams had spiraled around not only all the barely-veiled passes Claude had made, but his own action of feeding Claude, fixating on that sort of pseudo-domesticity, and had extended that to ‘what would it be like, to be attended to and cared for like that?’ Lorenz had drowned in longing for Claude to  _ care _ . Being actively and openly desired was novel and flattering, yes, but the tender looks and gestures that dream-Claude had plagued him with had been  _ painful _ . Lorenz had never wanted something in his life so badly as the softness he experienced in his dreams from another person, but...did such a thing even exist in reality? Or was it something that was consigned to fantasy? Before he watched how the other Golden Deer interact with their spouses, he would have immediately dismissed such tenderness, but he was no longer so sure it was pure folly.

Not to say that his watching Claude eat as closely as he had didn’t fixate him at least a  _ little _ bit on his mouth, and the offered-kiss of the previous early morning had also been played on loop in his dreams as well. When he left to put Shadow through his paces, it had taken a surprisingly large amount of self control to walk away from Claude’s room and not knock on it and consummate that kiss when Claude opened the door.

_ Oh, no, _ Lorenz thought, stopping brushing Shadow mid-motion.  _ Oh,  _ no.  _ I don’t  _ really _ want to kiss him, do I? _

That thought brought back memories of the breathless moments they had shared at the pool, when Lorenz had made Claude look up at him, and it finally processed, what the look in Claude’s eyes had meant both then and when he was teaching him the names of body parts later. 

_ He wanted me to kiss him, or he wanted to kiss me, _ Lorenz thought, as he buried his face in Shadow’s side and voiced a quiet groan of dismay.  _ It would have been like something out of a novel or opera. _

Lorenz stomach twisted as his mind almost gleefully unspooled a story for him, how the encounter might have gone had he not been stubbornly blind to the obvious: the scent of roses strong about them, the cold of the water forgotten, Claude reaching up to thread his fingers through Lorenz’s hair as Lorenz’s hands slide down to rest on Claude’s shoulders, eyes close right before lips meet and--

“Um, Lorenz? You’re making Shadow worry.”

Lorenz leaned away from Shadow to see Marianne watching him with thinly-veiled concern from the entrance of the stall.

“Ah, Marianne,” Lorenz said, trying to compose himself and ignoring Shadow lipping his sleeve in obvious concern. “My apologies for not noticing you there sooner.”

Marianne shook her head slowly and extended her hand to Shadow, who looked to Lorenz for a moment before carefully snuffling her palm, then jerking forward and nudging her bag--which was revealed to contain some apples, to Lorenz’s amusement.

“Your stallion is so handsome,” Marianne said, lightly stroking Shadow’s face and neck as he happily munched the apple.

“That he is,” Lorenz agreed. “Were you here to pay the horses a visit? I remember you liked to do that during the war and our school days.”

“I like animals more than I like most humans,” Marianne answered in a moment of distraction before her face flushed, then paled. “I mean--”

“No, it’s fine,” Lorenz said. “Humans can be...needlessly complicated.”

Marianne smiled faintly at that. 

“I have something I would like to discuss with you, actually. I was planning on waiting until I managed to schedule tea with you to ask, but, since you’re here, why don’t you help me finish caring for Shadow, and we can talk? I’m sure he’ll enjoy having two people tending to him,” Lorenz said.

Marianne chuckled softly as Shadows stretched out his neck to try and root around in her bag for more apples or treats. “You usually care for him on your own?”

“Yes. He’s...picky. I’ve had him since he was born,” Lorenz said and offered Marianne a brush as she stepped into the stall. 

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked as she started to brush Shadow.

“I’m returning with Claude to Almyra to serve as the Fodlanese ambassador,” Lorenz said. “That means that I’m no longer going to be able to run the Alliance. I was wondering--would you feel comfortable leading the former-Alliance territories? You are a capable woman and I trust you to not lead the territories astray, but if you don’t feel up to the challenge…”

Marianne swallowed hard, her hand trembling slightly as she brushed Shadow. “You really think that I could do something like  _ that _ ?”

“I would not have asked if I did not have the utmost confidence,” Lorenz replied. “But, if you don’t feel like you could comfortably manage Alliance lands, I’m considering asking Lysithea. I must admit that a part of me likes the mental image of Lysithea, with all her petite fury, staring down a recalcitrant noble until they do as she wishes to avoid her wrath.”

Marianne’s movements paused, and a giggle escaped her at the conjured scenario before she started brushing Shadow again. “That would be interesting.”

Shadow was making gruesome faces of pleasure as both Lorenz and Marianne tended to him, causing Lorenz to shake his head and Marianne to coo even more praises to the stallion for how well-behaved and healthy and handsome and strong he was. 

“Don’t lay it on too thick, or he’ll be inconsolable once we leave,” Lorenz said, struggling not to laugh. 

“Aw,” Marianne said and gave Shadow a peck on the cheek, which had him do a full-body shake that allowed Lorenz’s laugh to finally escape and caused Marianne to chuckle as well. 

It was quiet, pleasant work, very few words passing between them save for requests for a different kind of brush or a query about how Lorenz came by Shadow and a passing comment about how Marianne was considering trying her hand at husbandry, given her love for animals and horses in particular. However, while large, Shadow was still finite in size, so eventually they ran out of horse to tend to, leaving him sleek and gleaming.

“I’ll give it some thought,” Marianne said as she lightly ran her fingers through Shadow’s mane. “My studies under my adoptive father have been...useful, but our leverage and power comes from our finances, not from military or diplomacy.”

“You could always ask your betrothed or her family for their opinions,” Lorenz pointed out. “There is no reason you need to rule alone.”

“True,” Marianne said as she lightly twisted an exquisite ring around her finger in anxious thought. 

_ No need to rule alone... _

“Just let me know as soon as you are certain of your decision,” Lorenz said. “It might be an uphill battle convincing Lysithea to take the reins.”

“Lysithea deserves a quiet life,” Marianne said firmly after she had helped Lorenz put away all Shadow’s supplies. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Marianne replied. “I will likely rely on Hilda quite a bit, but I know I have people who want to see me succeed and will help. I can do this.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said, sincere gratitude and warmth lacing his tone. 

Marianne smiled shyly in acceptance of his thanks before an expression somewhere between thoughtful and embarrassed formed on her face. “Um, Lorenz?”

“Yes?”

“YouandClaudewouldbegoodforeachother,” she said in a quick semi-mumble, her face promptly going bright red. “I have to go. Thank you for letting me take care of Shadow with you.”

Marianne beat a very quick retreat after that, leaving Lorenz alone with Shadow, who was looking a little put-out at only having  _ Lorenz  _ paying attention to him again.

“But...” Lorenz sighed and looked to Shadow. “What do  _ you _ think of Claude?”

Shadow looked mournfully in the direction Marianne had run off in.

“She visits the stable regularly, I’m sure you’ll see her again and then you can steal more apples from her,” Lorenz chided. “I should get going as well. I promised to spar with Catherine, and then I have a goddess-forsaken  _ seminar _ to teach. What am I going to even talk about?”

Lorenz left Shadow’s stall after feeding the stallion one last sugar cube in farewell, heading off towards the practice yard.

_ I didn’t get as much thinking in as I would have liked, _ Lorenz thought as he walked through the training grounds.  _ Still, at least I know Marianne will take care of the Alliance for me. I’m also certain that Ferdinand will have an opinion on...whatever might be between Claude and I. Particularly given the man’s  _ behavior _ last night. Goddess! _

Catherine was stretching in the original practice yard, and Lorenz was both amused and unsurprised to see Caspar and Raphael sparring vigorously while their partners watched with either thinly-veiled anxiety (Bernadetta) or something between mild annoyance and amused exasperation (Linhardt).

“Ah, there you are,” Catherine said, catching sight of him. “I half feared you wouldn’t show up.”

“I needed to put my stallion through his paces, but rest assured that I would never back out of promise,” Lorenz said. 

“Do you mean Claude or Shadow?’

Lorenz was  _ not _ expecting that from Catherine, of all people, so was caught off-guard, and was sure that he looked so much like a startled deer before he regained his composure and said, “Shadow. I took Shadow for a run on the warhorse training course.”

“Uh-huh,” Catherine said, clearly not fully believing him. “So, what will we be sparring with?”

“Live weapons are better, but I am fine with practice weaponry, too,” Lorenz said.

“I’m sure you don’t have your preferred lance with you, so let’s use practice weapons to make things more fair.”

“Very well,” Lorenz agreed and obtained a practice lance for himself as Catherine picked out a practice sword. 

After doing a few stretches and a short warm-up, Lorenz turned to Catherine and said. “Ready?”

“Was waiting on you,” Catherine replied with a feral grin. “En garde!”

There was something exhilarating about fighting someone who was objectively better than him, and Lorenz relished at how hard Catherine was pushing him. While the manse guard was good and he drilled himself daily, he was well aware that there were some people whom he could only ever hope to  _ match _ , not defeat. Catherine was one of those people.

Lorenz had the advantage of reach, but Catherine was blazingly fast in both her strikes and footwork; it took all of Lorenz’s discipline to not reach for his magic to even the skill imbalance slightly. He didn’t back down, however, and a smile slowly bloomed on her face as they traded blows. Lorenz hated how hard he was breathing, but the life of a diplomat did not often lend itself to battle. 

“Don’t hesitate to use your magic,” Catherine said as they circled each other. “You’ll run out of spells before I run out of energy.”

“If you say so,” Lorenz said, skeptical.  _ His _ strength was in his versatility, and he had drilled himself until he could use his magic without needing to sheathe his weapon.  _ That  _ had taken plenty of training and focus, and he was endlessly proud of himself for figuring it out. Catherine clearly expected that he would have to switch between weapon and magic, so let out a laugh of surprise and  _ glee _ when Lorenz blocked with the practice spear, shoved her away, and then immediately cast a Fire spell without needing to momentarily put away his lance.

Now that Lorenz was allowed to use his magic, the fight was on more even footing, and he could feel Thyrsus burning against his lower back, where he had it tucked beneath his clothes and through his belt. 

Nevertheless, Catherine was gracious and considerate enough of his pride to end on a draw instead of a defeat for him, as he really should have suffered, since he did, indeed, run out of magic before she tired. 

“Not bad, Gloucester,” Catherine said with a grin and exchanged a firm handshake. “Keeping yourself in shape in spite of being mostly a paper-pusher now, huh?”

“Thank you, I suppose,” Lorenz panted as he took an offered towel from someone who had been watching their bout and used it to wipe his face free of sweat. “Your skills seem to have only increased.”

Catherine laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “In peacetime, all I have to do is train, so of course I’m gonna get better. I can tell Shamir’s been bit by the wanderlust bug, though, so we might be heading out soon.”

“You will be leaving the Knights of Seiros?” Lorenz asked, surprised.

“Yes and no,” Catherine hedged. “It might be good to have operatives out in the field, yeah? That’s what we’re going to be..sort of. Shamir has no interest in reporting back, but I’ll probably be sending missives every now and then just to keep the Professor updated on the state of the world.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

Catherine nodded, then laughed softly. “Funny, isn’t it? We should address them as something else, but those of us who know them well still call them ‘Professor.’ It’s not like they’ve told us to stop, so…”

“I think they like it,” Lorenz said, finally catching his breath. “They  _ were _ born and raised as a commoner, so the title and position of Sovereign being thrust upon them is likely...more than a bit of a burden. Being called ‘Professor’ probably makes them feel human.”

“How insightful,” Catherine said, it her turn to look surprised. 

“I would not consider myself a confidant to any extent, but we do communicate often and extensively enough that I think I have some of a glimpse into their mindset.”

“Fair enough,” Catherine replied, not even looking  _ mildly _ winded. “Well, you were a good warm-up. Thank you for agreeing to spar with me.”

Lorenz barely kept himself from scowling. “The pleasure was mine, I assure you.”

“You’re a shit liar, but I appreciate it anyway,” Catherine said. “Go get yourself cleaned up or whatever, since I’m sure you have a busy day. I think I heard Felix mention that he was taking the morning off to luxuriate and watch as Annette dresses Sylvain down for his behavior because you agreed to teach a seminar for her.”

Lorenz snorted. “He deserves it.”

“Which he?”

“Both of them.”

Catherine snickered. “Right. However, because he’s taking the morning, Shamir and I are stuck with instructing. Go away so I can prepare to deal with brats who somehow have managed to survive this long with only the faintest idea of how to correctly hold a weapon.”

“By your leave,” Lorenz said and excused himself. 

After a brief stop by his rooms to pick up normal clothing, he took a quick bath, dropped off his armor for repair at the blacksmith, and headed with extreme trepidation to the Blue Lions classroom. Annette was waiting for him, and gave him a warm, genuine smile upon seeing him.

“Lorenz! You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered,” Lorenz said and pressed a kiss to the back of Annette’s hand, which made her chuckle. “I made a promise, after all. Word is Felix is looking forward to you, ah, dressing your shared husband down.”

Annette’s face flushed slightly and her lips pursed in annoyance. “I tell Sylvain every time to not be distracting, but he does it anyway! Maybe this time it’ll actually get through?”

“I would not count on that, but I suppose it doesn’t hurt to hope,” Lorenz said.

“I can see why you make a good diplomat,” Annette remarked. “So, you’ll be teaching until the lunchtime bell. If you run out of things you feel comfortable teaching, I’ve left behind some group work that you can give to the students. Then it’s just a matter of making sure they don’t accidentally burn down the building, y’know?” 

“That is very kind of you to provide me with the extra material.”

“Hey, it’s only the right thing to do when you’re serving as a sort of substitute teacher,” Annette said with a smile. “I’m sure you’d give me some kind of safety net if I suddenly had to do something diplomatic, so it’s only right for me to make sure you’ll be okay doing something you’re not familiar with.”

“Still, it is appreciated.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine, just teach what you know and if you run out before lunch, the plans are on the desk,” Annette said. “Now, I’m off to try to teach my husband  _ some _ amount of respect for his spouses while we’re working.”

“Best of luck,” Lorenz said as Annette walked away. He watched her go for a moment, then sighed and turned to the desk, picking up the stack of paper that was resting on it and starting to skim the contents. 

_ She really did think of everything, _ Lorenz thought, impressed. _ You know what? Perhaps instead of trying to explain magic, which I’m  _ good _ at but not  _ great _ at, I’ll explain the Srengish and Almyran treaties? It is current events and it wouldn’t hurt to know more about how governance is handled as well as martial skills…and I’m also significantly more interested in explaining those and won’t have to worry about boring the more weapons-oriented people with magical theory. I can bore all of them equally. _

The current Blue Lions class slowly filtered in, their gazes curious at the lack of their usual instructor. 

“Professor Annette has personal matters to attend to this morning, so I will be your instructor,” Lorenz announced. “However, we will not be discussing tactics in magic or weaponry, but rather the current state of affairs of Fodlan and its relationship to the rest of the known world--in particular, the relatively recent treaties between Sreng and Almyra and what they mean in terms of conflict, trade, and politics. You all looked absolutely  _ thrilled _ , but it’s as important to know what is happening outside of Fodlan as what is occurring within it.”

The lesson ended up meandering more than Lorenz had intended, ending up part geography and geopolitics, part history, and part military and diplomatic tactics. He doubted his instruction was anywhere close to Annette’s skill level, but the Blue Lions at least managed to feign interest long enough for the morning to pass without incident. Lorenz was  _ exhausted _ by the time they all left, and exhaled a long sigh of relief once the classroom was empty. 

_ Well, that’s over, _ Lorenz thought. _ Goddess, I don’t know how people can teach. I’d rather sit through tedious negotiations on stupid minutia of the law than deal with a classroom full of inquisitive young minds. _

Lorenz was musing about where he might take lunch and  _ not _ be disturbed, but a familiar voice calling out his name brought him up short; the only reason he didn’t scowl was because he recognized Mercedes, and he had a debt of gratitude to pay to her. She, Dorothea, and the Professor had helped to unwrite some of the more deep-seated prejudices his parents had beaten into him surrounding commoners. 

“Mercedes,” Lorenz greeted and extended his hand; to his surprise, Mercedes  _ hugged _ him instead of providing him her hand to kiss. He froze momentarily at the contact, then hesitantly hugged her back. 

“How are you, Lorenz?” she asked once she pulled back, her soft, breathy voice soothing after a morning of being on edge. 

“I am as well as can be expected, although the day has taken a turn for the better upon meeting you.”

She gave him a small, indulgent smile and said, “Why don’t you have lunch with me? Unless you’re already reserved?”

Lorenz shook his head. “No, I am free until tea-time, wherein I’m meeting with Ferdinand.”

“Wonderful!” Mercedes said. “Thank you so much.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Lorenz said and offered Mercedes his arm. “Last I recall, you were helping to run an orphanage in Fhirdiad for the children displaced in the war when you weren’t busy with you duties here?”

“Oh, yes,” Mercedes said and took his offered arm, linking hers through it. “It still keeps me quite busy, but I’ve also started a school for all the children who live in the village surrounding Garreg Mach. A lot of displaced people in  _ all _ the territories found their way here. It is doing the goddess’ work, and keeps me busy and feeling useful.”

“All good things,” Lorenz agreed. 

After a small pause, Mercedes said, “I’m sure the last thing you want to talk about is the feast last night, but if you want to--even if just to vent--I’m here to listen.”

Lorenz sighed heavily. “Thank you for the offer, Mercedes. I just...don’t know what possessed him. He never acted like that at any other time when we were traveling together, so it was...alarming, in a way.”

“He is usually remarkably composed,” Mercedes agreed. “Might I shed some light on the situation?”

“Any illumination you could provide as to his bizarre behavior would be appreciated.”

“I was sitting with Alois, Shamir, Catherine, Cyril, and Lysithea when he came by to visit and talk and tease Lysithea,” Mercedes said as they continued to walk. “We spoke about all sorts of things, from events in Fodlan that he’d missed to what it’s like in Almyra and everything in between. It was lovely. However, during a lull in conversation, Cyril turned to Claude and said something to him in Almyran. Lysithea looked shocked and scolded him in the same tongue--apparently he has taught her how to speak Almyran--but Claude looked...thoughtful, then resolute, then excused himself.”

“Did anyone ask Lysithea what Cyril said?”

“Oh, certainly, but she simply blushed red and refused to translate,” Mercedes said. “So, if you want clarification on what was said, you should ask Cyril. He still works around the Monastery, even as a Knight. Old habits die hard.”

Lorenz nodded slowly, mulling over the new information. “I see. I’ll have to speak with him, then. But, that is a concern for later. Do you travel often between here and Fhirdiad? That must take quite a toll.”

Mercedes was a pleasure to talk with, although their meal was less peaceful than Lorenz may have liked, since it became quickly apparent how much everyone relied on Mercedes for advice. Lorenz distantly recalled there being some sort of ‘Advice Box’ when he was a student, and it seemed as if Mercedes had become that incarnate. Still, there was a certain relaxation in just listening and having nothing expected of him.It also dragged out their lunch to nearly two hours, but Lorenz didn’t mind terribly--as long as he had someone he was engaged with, he could avoid Claude. 

“I’m so sorry we didn’t get much time to talk ourselves,” Mercedes apologized, looking legitimately upset when the bells tolled the hour.

“I’ll be here a while yet, I’m sure we’ll find some other time,” Lorenz replied. “You really are an exceptional woman.”

“You flatter me,” Mercedes said with a warm smile. “Now, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me. There will likely be some work required in the Cathedral to prepare for evening mass, and it never hurts to get an early start, particularly when so many people come to admire the paintings.”

“Of course. Until a later time.”

Lorenz watched Mercedes walk away, and it dawned on him that  _ she _ was technically unmarried and, thus, potentially available as a wife for him.

_ But, asking her to marry me would take her away from her life’s work and deprive her of joy, _ Lorenz thought as he walked to the greenhouse to wait out the hour before tea-time.  _ I’d never be that inconsiderate. My chance to ask her has passed, and...I wouldn’t want to condemn her to my family as in-laws, anyway.  _

As Lorenz breathed in the scent of damp earth and growing things, he caught sight of a semi-familiar figure bent over and diligently picking out weeds--Cyril.

_ It is almost suspiciously fortuitous, _ Lorenz thought and walked over.

“Ah, Cyril, may I have a moment of your time?”

Cyril looked up from weeding, stood, brushed some dirt off his knees, and said, “Sure, but try to make it quick. There’s still plenty left for me to do.”

“What exactly did you say to Claude yesterday at the feast?”

Cyril paused, thought, and then said something in Almyran. While Lorenz didn’t catch  _ all _ the slang, he had gained enough exposure to the language differences and similarities between Almyran and Fodlanese that he had the very rough idea that Cyril had more or less taken Claude to task for letting other people flirt with him and not doing anything to stop it. Cyril  _ clearly _ hadn’t expected Lorenz to understand, since he balked when Lorenz flushed at the implications in his statement.

“Did you…?” Cyril asked hesitantly, his own face coloring slightly.

“I’m to be the Fodlanese ambassador to Almyra, so Claude has been teaching me Almyran during our travels,” Lorenz said after clearing his throat in discomfort. 

“Oh,” Cyril said, looking  _ extremely _ self-conscious. “Um. Sorry? I guess?”

Lorenz sighed. “I’m sure there’s a cultural misunderstanding happening, but please don’t encourage Claude’s bad behavior.”

“I won’t,” Cyril said, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “It’s just not hard t’ see that he likes ya, so I just...didn’t get why he’d let other people makes eyes at ya and stuff.”

“Even if he likes me, we’re not  _ together _ , so he doesn’t have much of a say on whether or not other people flirt with me or if I flirt back,” Lorenz said. 

“Well, maybe ya  _ should  _ be together?” Cyril offered. “Unless you have something against Almyrans?”

“No, I don’t,” Lorenz said. “I couldn’t be the ambassador to Almyra and have something against her people.”

“Makes sense,” Cyril admitted. 

“Although I’m curious,” Lorenz said. “We never really interacted, and I don’t think I’m wrong in believing that you were unaware of Claude’s status as the heir apparent back when we were students and during the war. What makes  _ you _ think Claude and I should be together, as a more-or-less distant party?”

Cyril sighed. “You’re doing that Fodlanese thing, too.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s a  _ problem _ ,” Cyril continued. “You Fodlanese people  _ think _ too much. Not everything needs to have a, uh, paper written about it or be extensively researched, and...dissecting?...emotions usually leads nowhere but confusion. Claude  _ clearly _ wants you, and nothing you’ve done has made me think ya don’t feel exactly the same, so just stop beatin’ around the bush and agree to be with him. It’s really not that hard.”

“Claude is the King of Almyra, he has certain duties he has to fulfill.”

“Almyran kings are legendary for having many lovers,” Cyril said. “Ask him to tell you a few stories about King Samsuiluna. I think he was rumored to have both male and female lovers. I don’t remember the stories well, just fragments of what other Almyrans would tell around the fire either before or after battle, but being the King, he probably knows all of them.”

“I will make sure to ask him,” Lorenz said. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Are we done? Because I still have a lot of chores to take care of before I can go back to Lysithea.”

“Don’t let me keep you from your lady,” Lorenz said. “Farewell and take care.”

“Yeah, you take care, too,” Cyril said, his tone distracted as he clearly turned his attention back to his tasks.

_ Why do so many people think that it’s just a simple matter to be in a relationship with Claude?  _ Lorenz wondered as he sat on one of the benches scattered throughout the greenhouse.  _ There’s so much politics surrounding his choice of partner, and I am in no better a position. I can’t be with him, it’s that  _ simple.  _ And yet...and yet it hurts to even consider not being close to him. My chest feels tight when I think of trying to help him find someone to marry while working as a diplomat in Almyra, and I’ve never been so...disinterested….in attempting to court others myself. I don’t actually want to try being with him, do I? _

Lorenz’s mind spun in leisurely, nonsensical circles, and each time he thought he had found a way to convince himself he  _ didn’t _ want to be with Claude, he’d remember Claude laughing at a stupid joke he (Lorenz) made, or the warmth he’d sometimes see in Claude’s eyes and smile and how it made him feel warm, too, or would circle back to speculation on where their time at the pool might have gone if he hadn’t been so  _ stupid _ .

It left him frustrated, flustered, and generally despairing over his traitorous heart. When the bells chimed just before the hour, Lorenz pushed himself standing and moved to find his best friend.

Lorenz caught sight of Ferdinand at a table, a tray of pastries set up for them along with one of Ferdinand’s more flashy tea sets.  _ Whispers _ followed him as he made his way over to Ferdinand’s table, and he allowed himself a small sigh when he sat down.

“Thank you for making the time to have tea with me,” Lorenz said, and Ferdinand waved away the thanks.

“My love and I both work too hard, so we have to make sure to find the time to tend to our needs as well as the needs of Fodlan. It is also rather difficult to get you out from under your mountain of work, so I relish the opportunities I get to see and speak with you in person.”

Lorenz smiled warmly at that. “Perhaps I should take your lead on that and make sure to find time to visit my friends more often.”

“A fine idea,” Ferdinand said and poured the tea for both of them. 

Lorenz picked up the tea, took a breath of it, then smiled. “Bergamot today? I thought you didn’t favor the flavor.”

“I was in the mood, and we received a shipment with a lighter scent and flavor than usual,” Ferdinand said. “I am glad you approve.”

“You always have exquisite taste in tea.”

After a few minutes of idle talk about nothing of particular import, Lorenz steeled himself and said, “Ferdinand, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course,” Ferdinand said, frowning ever so slightly. “We are friends, are we not?”

“How did you know you were in love with the Professor?”

Ferdinand took a sip of the tea, eyes distant and thoughtful as he pondered the question.

“I knew I  _ loved  _ them when their dreams became as important to me as my own,” Ferdinand said slowly. “When I realized that, even if no one else recognized my achievements, if  _ they _ did, I would be content. They are my first thought upon waking and my last as I fall asleep, and I can no longer imagine a world without them. Love is a...quieter thing than I thought it would be. We have romance and passion, of course, but there is also a sense of…” Ferdinand gestured vaguely. “While I am complete without them, I am better because of them _. _ They make me want to strive to be more than I think I can be, to exceed what I originally thought I was capable of achieving, and I know I have their unwavering support. It is...humbling, sometimes, to be honest. Why? Do you think you may have found someone? _ ” _

Ferdinand’s tone had gone from thoughtful to excited over the course of the final sentence, and he was looking at Lorenz expectantly. 

_ It’s only fair I answer his question, but I’m not sure what to say. He is likely anticipating a particular answer, _ Lorenz thought as he restlessly turned the teacup on the saucer where it rested on the table.  _ Might as well be honest. _

“I don’t know,” Lorenz admitted. 

“Love is confusing at the start,” Ferdinand said and nodded in sage understanding. “You are likely wondering, do I  _ love _ this person, or merely  _ want _ them, yes?”

_ I suppose it is that obvious, isn’t it? _ Lorenz thought, mildly annoyed with both Claude  _ and _ himself.

“Yes and no,” Lorenz said. “I’m not...I’m not sure  _ what _ I feel, Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand nodded slowly, his expression growing thoughtful. “As I am fairly certain I know the lines you were fed regarding love, romance, and marriage, I want you to know this--real, true love is nothing like what we were taught. It is a far messier affair.”

Lorenz took a few sips of tea in an attempt to center himself and find the right words to describe his...situation...but found himself at a loss. 

“It is unlike you to be so uncertain,” Ferdinand observed when the silence stretched on too long. “I think that is more telling than anything else.”

“Telling of what, exactly?” Lorenz said, trying to not be irritated with his friend.

“That what you are feeling isn’t simply a surface emotion, but something deeper.” 

Lorenz looked at the remaining tea in his cup and sighed softly. "Something deeper, hm?"

“This wouldn’t have something to do with the rumor I’ve heard going about campus about you and a certain Almyran king having a rendezvous near the Goddess Tower would it?” Ferdinand asked 'innocently' before taking a delicate sip of the tea.

"No! It wasn't like that!" Lorenz protested, hating that he was blushing.

"Oh? Then explain to me what it was so I may correct the rumors."

Lorenz glared at his tea, then said, "We were touring the grounds for old time's sake after seeing your spouse to confirm my appointment as ambassador, and while I will not deny the content of our conversation was intimate, we never got anywhere  _ close _ to the Goddess Tower. Claude generally avoids the Cathedral and I wanted to get a closer look at the expanded greenhouse, so we were visiting there as we spoke. Claude might have planned something, but those plans did not come to fruition."

"Would you have gone along with those plans had you remained uninterrupted?"

"No! It would have been improper," Lorenz said firmly, his face still warm from the lingering blush. "But, that is neither here nor there. "

"But, it  _ is _ Claude who you fear you may love?"

"Fear?"

"Of course," Ferinand said. "Why  _ wouldn’t _ you feel fear? Claude goes against everything that we were taught about noble relationships.”

Lorenz fidgeted with his teacup unhappily. “He does. I would like to deny that I am not afraid, that I’m simply...confused...but I suppose they’re much the same thing, aren’t they?”

“The fear can stem from the confusion and vice versa,” Ferdinand offered. “May I ask what you find confusing?”

_ Everything _ ! Lorenz thought, but said: “I know there is nothing forbidding it in the teachings of Seiros, but I was kept sheltered enough by my family that I didn’t  _ know  _ that two men or two women could be romantically and sexually attracted to each other until I attended the Academy. After being told my entire life that women were the only option available to me, finding a man even remotely...comely...is frankly  _ unsettling _ .”

Ferdinand nodded, cleary listening intently, but didn’t offer a response, so Lorenz continued: “I’m also not used to thinking of relationships as anything other than a path to marriage and children, and while I can  _ marry _ Claude, at least in Fodlan, we can’t have children, and you  _ know _ how important it is to pass on one’s Crest is to the Fodlanese nobility.”

Ferdinand nodded again, but kept his peace.

“I’m also unaccustomed to someone...liking  _ me _ ,” Lorenz finally said. “The women who were presented to my parents as potential brides when I was younger were never interested in me, but in the Gloucester name, and many of them...well, it wasn’t hard to see they didn’t find me appealing in the slightest. Claude…” Lorenz, to his embarrassment, felt his face slowly heating again. 

“What about him?” Ferdinand prompted when Lorenz sat in silent, squirming embarrassment for too long.

“When we were traveling together, I didn’t...I didn’t  _ understand _ what certain ways he looked at me meant, but now that he’s told me he is attracted to me and I  _ do _ understand the meaning of those looks, I…” Lorenz rubbed his face with one hand, frustrated and flustered. “He  _ wants _ me, and I don’t know what to do with that, particularly since…”

“Since?”

“Do I  _ have _ to explain?”

“Yes, this is good for you,” Ferdinand said and poured Lorenz more tea. 

“Good for me?!”

“Yes,” Ferdinand affirmed simply. “You need to keep talking this through to its conclusion.”

“Ferdinand, I want to  _ kiss him _ .”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“It just  _ is _ ! I’m not  _ supposed _ to want to kiss another man!”

“Why not?”

“Because  _ proper nobles _ don’t do such things!”

“According to  _ your family _ , proper nobles do not do such things,” Ferdinand semi-corrected.

“...your father and mother were fairly traditional, if my memories of attending a ball with the Empire nobility serve me truly.”

“That is true, but Enbarr is more...cosmopolitan...and I was able to escape my family with more regularity than I imagine you could, and thus I was introduced to more varied experiences of attraction,” Ferdinand said. “Admittedly, amongst Empire nobles, it was more acceptable for two nobles of the same sex to fall in love than there be an inter-class relationship, but that has changed significantly in recent years. So, know that the attraction you are experiencing is neither wrong, nor terribly unusual.”

Lorenz blinked and sat back in his chair a little too hard, nearly toppling it over, but quickly righting it and regaining his stability, at least physically. “But…”

“But?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue how such a...relationship is supposed to work. Emotionally or physically,” Lorenz said. 

“And you  _ want _ that, yes?”

Lorenz groaned as he rubbed his cheeks, hating that his face was likely as red as his favorite flower. “I  _ shouldn’t _ .”

“Whyever not?”

“ _ Ferdinand _ .”

“Answer the question--why shouldn’t you want an intimate, physical relationship with Claude?”

“Because there would be no point or purpose to it! Nothing could come of it, so it would be...empty, in a way.”

“I daresay that both you and he might gain some  _ pleasure _ and  _ connection _ from it, and I believe that is more than a sufficient purpose and point,” Ferdinand commented.

“...what?”

“You can have intimate relations  _ just _ for the sake of having them,” Ferdinand said. “My spouse and I are not  _ always _ trying for children when we are intimate with each other. Petra introduced us to a plant from Brigid that, when ingested,  _ prevents _ conception, so we will not have children until we are ready.”

Ferdinand was talking, and Lorenz knew that he could understand the language he was speaking, but the ideas he was espousing were so  _ foreign  _ as to be incomprehensible. 

“Lorenz?” Ferdinand asked, a note of worry creeping into his voice.

Lorenz took a sip of his tea, trying to organize his thoughts.

Sex? For just  _ pleasure _ ? Pleasure was nice, sure, but that wasn’t the point of sex, at least from what had been drilled into him. To seek pleasure with a man would be...selfish, wrong, almost  _ immoral _ . 

“Ferdinand,” Lorenz sighed. “I…”

Ferdinand nudged a plate with some of Lorenz’s favorite tea cakes towards him. “There is no rush. While I am not under the impression that Claude will wait  _ forever _ , he does seem to be the kind of man to play the long game. Although, now that I have a slightly better understanding of the lines your parents fed you, some of his more perplexing questions make more sense.”

“You spoke with him?” Lorenz asked, feeling weirdly betrayed.

Ferdinand held his hands up in placation. “We did not directly discuss you. It was a discussion more about what sort of  _ culture shocks _ a potential Almyran student might have. We discussed social expectations and norms throughout Fodlan, and he provided me and my spouse some fascinating insight on Almyran culture. I did not  _ initially _ understand why he was so interested in students forming intimate relationships, but when I discussed it with my love, they pointed out a number of...interactions...that you two had during the feast and things clicked.”

“He was rather obvious, wasn’t he?” Lorenz muttered before taking a sip of tea.

“He was not the only one being fairly flagrant.”

“I did what I needed to do in order to keep his commentary to himself,” Lorenz responded tersely.

“It is clear that there is  _ tension _ between you,” Ferdinand said. “And I think it would do you good to resolve it.”

“No,  _ he _ needs to learn restraint. We have talked extensively, and he agreed to court me as a Fodlanese noble, but then he goes and...does what he did at the feast!”

“Come now, Lorenz, anyone could see that you enjoyed his flirtation.”

“I did not! It was  _ embarrassing! _ ”

“Your body betrays what your heart truly feels.”

“...what?”

Ferdinand interlaced his fingers as he rested his hands on the table, caught and held Lorenz’s eyes and said, “I am telling you these things as your  _ friend _ . You are not allowed to become cross with me.”

“Very well,” Lorenz said, already dreading whatever Ferdinand was going to tell him.

“If you had truly found what he was doing embarrassing, you would have moved farther away from him or simply found a new person with whom to sit,” Ferdinand said. “You were never one to tolerate fools or people who irked you. However, instead of distancing yourself from him, you moved closer.”

“Because it made him keep his voice down and made his touches less obvious,” Lorenz semi-protested. “If I had left, he would have followed, and that would have been  _ more _ intolerable, because I was not going to have the king of Almyra trailing behind me like a puppy intent on making mischief.”

“You sound rather sure of that.”

“Well, he did threaten me earlier in the day with retribution, so I suppose it’s partly my fault for not believing him…”

“Retribution? For what?”

“I asked him to go riding with me on the trails, and in doing so, he misinterpreted a few statements I made as flirtation, and while it was...charming...to see him flustered, I hadn’t thought he’d make my embarrassment public when my words and actions occurred in private.”

“Lorenz, what prompted him to start flirting shamelessly with you?”

“Shameless is a good way to phrase it,” Lorenz grumbled and took another sip of tea as he thought. “I’m wont to say it was Cyril’s fault.”

“What does Cyril have to do with this?”

“Apparently, Claude was visiting Lysithea, Cyril, and some of the Knights and faculty and Cyril expressed what I can only hazard is an Almyran sentiment about how Claude should not tolerate other people flirting with me.”

“So, then it wasn’t that he was taking issue with  _ your _ behavior, but, rather, the fact that other people were speaking and flirting with you?”

“...are you saying Claude was  _ jealous _ ?” Lorenz said, incredulous.  _ Did Cyril abet that emotion? Or, perhaps, give Claude the nudge he needed to act on what he could otherwise contain? _

Ferdinand nodded, sipping his tea. “From what you’ve just told me and what observed, I believe that Claude was less seeking to embarrass you for whatever transgressions you may have committed and more desiring to indicate to anyone else who may have been interested in trying to capture your affections that you were already, ah...spoken for. You  _ are _ currently Fodlan’s most eligible bachelor.”

“But... _ Claude _ ? He...I can’t imagine him being either so petty or so possessive, even if he was prompted.”

“As I have spent the majority of my time here since the war, I have seen Cyril and Lysithea’s relationship blossom, and I can tell you with the certainty of having extensively interacted with only one Almyran in my entire life, that it appears that they can be rather petty and possessive when it comes to the person who holds their affections.”

Lorenz shook his head, although he wasn’t sure if he was denying the statement in general or denying that Claude would ever act in such a manner.  _ I really do need to learn more about Almyran culture. _

“Your loyalty to Claude is admirable.”

“Loyalty?” Lorenz sputtered. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Lorenz took a deep breath, realized the hole he had dug for himself, and thus stayed quiet.

Ferdinand had the grace to not look  _ too _ smug.

“But…” Lorenz sighed. “What I feel for him, can’t be  _ that _ . It’s not...not...it’s not a  _ noble _ emotion.”

Ferdinand’s expression changed to a fond, exasperated, understanding smile. “I do not believe that it ever starts out that way.” 

“And even if...even if this feeling is that…”

“Lorenz?” Ferdinand prompted when Lorenz fell silent for too long.

“Claude wants a passionate love,” Lorenz murmured. “He wants a relationship of mutual desire. He...you said that your love for the Professor made you want to be more, do more than you thought yourself capable of. You’re a better person for your love, are you not?”

“I would like to think so, yes.”

Lorenz swallowed, his truth sticking in his throat, much as it often did when he tried to explain himself. “I don’t think I’m a better person because of what I feel for him, and I don’t think...I don’t think that being with me would improve him.”

Ferdinand frowned and tilted his head, a non-verbal request for clarification. 

“The love of a Gloucester consumes without providing warmth,” Lorenz murmured, paraphrasing something his mother told him when he had asked her why she let his father take so many mistresses. 

_ “I sacrifice them on the altar of his love so that I may survive.” _

“Lorenz,” Ferdinand said, his voice sad. 

“Every Gloucester before me has had multiple wives, as they are claimed early due to complications during childbirth, illness, any number of things,” Lorenz said. “Mine is a greedy House, always wanting more and wringing it out of those who would give it to us until there is nothing left. I don’t want...I don’t want that to happen to Claude.”

“Your behavior and track record with Alliance territories and diplomatic successes belays your words.”

“Only because I strive to follow the teaching of Seiros and the governmental ethics and morals set forth by illustrious and compassionate philosophers,” Lorenz murmured. “I try my hardest to be the opposite of my ancestors in every way feasible, but...governing is one thing. I can detach my emotions from that. But, my heart? Who says I won’t fall back on everything I saw and learned from my family and not what I aspire towards?”

“Have some faith in yourself,” Ferdinand said. “It is unlike you to doubt yourself so.”

There was no way to explain the reasons for his hesitancy without unearthing memories and truths whose bones poked out of extremely shallow graves. 

“True,” Lorenz agreed. “I have asked many of the other members of the Golden Deer house what they think and...and they all seem to harbor the belief that Claude and I would be  _ good _ together, for one reason or another.”

“And yet you still have reservations.”

_ “You said you would prove me wrong, that you would find a woman who would marry you based on your own merits, a woman who would  _ love _ you. Where is this woman? It’s so sad, isn’t it, knowing that you’re unlovable.” _

“Lorenz?”

“Ah, sorry. I have a small headache,” Lorenz lied and forced a smile. “I’m not used to this much thinking about my personal life. Worrying about the health and state of the nation is much less stressful.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Ferdinand agreed. “Our decisions at that level touches so many more lives, and yet I’ve never lost hair as a result of anything related to the United Nation of Fodlan, but lost quite a bit when stressing about proposing to my love!”

“My, it must have truly been significant for you to notice the loss,” Lorenz semi-teased, and Ferdinand unconsciously flicked his long, luxurious hair over his shoulder. 

“It was a relief when they agreed to marry me. I nearly fainted when they said yes!”

Lorenz couldn’t help the  _ aw _ that escaped him. “You never did tell me how your proposal went, only that you were successful.”

It was clearly a story that Ferdinand relished telling, although Lorenz had a suspicion it was  _ slightly _ dramaticized. Still, there was no point to begrudging his friend his happiness or an attentive audience, and it was nice to hear a  _ happy _ story.

They talked about everything besides Claude well into the afternoon, touching on both politics and their personal lives without straying into the ‘Do I  _ love _ Claude?’ territory again.

“Will you and your spouse be joining everyone for dinner?” Lorenz asked Ferdinand when the dinner bell rang.

“Oh, no,” Ferdinand said. “My love is having a private meal with Claude and Petra. Royal spouses have been given a pass, but I’ll likely end up waiting on everyone instead of a servant. If they’re having a private dinner, they’re likely discussing Important Political Matters, and Garreg Mach is notorious for having walls riddled with ears.”

“Naturally,” Lorenz agreed, feeling oddly relieved over knowing he still had some time to himself. “Thank you for taking tea with me.”

“It was a pleasure,” Ferdinand said with an honest smile. “We should do it at least once more before you leave the Monastery.”

“Make sure to leave tea time free for me, then.”

“Same to you,” Ferdinand replied as he stood, Lorenz following a moment behind.

“Don’t worry about the tea set--I’ll return it,” Lorenz said, catching Ferdinand’s hand as he reached out. “I’m sure you should get going to properly tend to all the royalty.”

“Thank you, my friend. I’ll see you around, yes?”

“Of course.”

With that, they parted ways and Lorenz felt increasingly conflicted about... _ everything _ . His expression must have been too pensive or dark to encourage others to approach him--either that, or people were afraid of drawing Claude’s ire, in spite of him not being present--since he was left alone both when returning the tea set to the busy kitchen and upon gathering his dinner and finding a place to sit on the dining hall.

_ Ferdinand  _ has _ to be wrong, _ Lorenz thought as he took small bites of his food.  _ There’s...I can’t love Claude, and I certainly can’t have a physical relationship with him. Right? Staying away would be best for both of our countries, but...I can’t help but be drawn to him.  _

“Will you let me join you? We can be lonely together.”

Lorenz looked up to see Dorothea looking down at him with a tray of food in her hands, but the wry, somehow understanding smile took away some of the bite to her words.

“I would be honored to have you join me for dinner,” Lorenz asked and scooted over on the bench to make space for Dorothea, who gracefully sat down next to him after placing her food on the table.

“What has you so gloomy?” Dorothea asked. “It’s an unfamiliar look for you.”

Lorenz debated his response for a minute, sighed, then said, “Many of my friends and quite a few people who aren’t have seemingly decided that Claude and I should be a couple, but it won’t  _ work _ for numerous sociopolitical reasons. However, that isn’t stopping my traitor-heart from seriously considering the concept and that alone is...mildly bewildering.”

“Why? By all of the metrics I remember you having during our school days and the war, Claude ticks all the boxes,” Dorothea said. “You can’t get more noble than a king.”

“He’s a man, which means we can’t have children, and that was always a major requirement,” Lorenz pointed out. “One of a Fodlanese noble’s duties is to pass on their Crest to the next generation, and that is physically impossible with Claude.”

“Is that all?”

“Pardon?”

“Is that all that is standing in the way of you being in a relationship with him?” Dorothea asked, idly gesturing with her fork. “The fact that you can’t have children and pass on the all-important Crest?”

“No, it is one reason out of...a few,” Lorenz hedged. “In Almyra, such relationships aren’t exactly  _ condoned _ , even if they are acceptable in Fodlan, and Claude is a  _ king _ . He needs to make prudent decisions for the good of his entire country.”

“You know, I’ve discovered that happy monarchs tend to lead better and make better decisions,” Dorothea commented. “It’s easier to want  _ others _ to be happy when you yourself are.”

“What’s your point?”

“You’d have to be blind, deaf, and willfully ignorant to not see how much pleasure he gets from being around you,” Dorothea said. “And let me bestow upon you some  _ commoner _ wisdom, Lorenz--you can date someone without committing your life to theirs forever, and it is also perfectly  _ okay _ if the relationship ends up failing.”

“But, I would never do anything without at least  _ some _ assurance of success, and I can only see a relationship with Claude ending poorly.”

“Why? Because your family wouldn’t approve of you being in a relationship with him, and your father’s approval is what is most important to you?”

“No,” Lorenz said, trying to hide his discomfort at how Dorothea might be straying a little too close to an uncomfortable truth. “You love Petra.”

“Desperately.”

“How did you know you were in love with her?”

“When the birds sang more sweetly and the flowers became more fragrant with her around,” Dorothea said, her eyes going slightly unfocused as she viewed her memories. “When her smile could banish the worst of my moods, and her strength gave  _ me _ courage. She became my rock, and I wanted to be her support as well. I could take on anyone and anything with her at my side, and I marveled at her resolve and conviction. I wanted to help her achieve her dreams, to grow with her...to grow  _ old _ with her. I know she doesn’t see just the songstress, and that she loves me even knowing that my beauty will fade in time. She can be quite forward, so I always know where I stand with her, and that honesty is...important. It made me view myself more honestly and I...I like myself more now. She truly is a wonder.”

“She is a very strong woman,” Lorenz agreed. “As are you.”

“Flaterer,” Dorothea drawled. “Why do you ask?”

“I am trying to figure out how I feel for Claude in order to avoid Annette and Sylvain involving themselves in getting us together, and from how everyone I’ve spoken to has described  _ love _ for their spouse...I don’t think I can make Claude  _ better _ for being with me.”

“Really? Are you feeling okay? What happened to the  _ real _ Lorenz?”

“I am perfectly capable of obtaining some degree of self-reflection,” Lorenz drawled. “It’s just...I have nothing to offer him.”

“ _ Nobles.  _ You can offer him your heart. Your love, your trust. You have magic--he doesn’t. The Gloucesters are fabulously wealthy, too, last I checked.”

“I drained much of our coffers during the reconstruction efforts,” Lorenz admitted. “I’m on a comparatively shoestring budget.”

“Comparatively,” Dorothea repeated. “But, Lorenz...maybe all he wants is your love? Can you offer him that?”

“I don’t know,” Lorenz said, reflexively placing his hand over his heart. “He deserves to be loved deeply and passionately, but I don’t...I don’t know what looks like, aside from watching how all of the other Golden Deer interact with their spouses. Anything I could offer him would be a pale imitation, and he deserves better than that.”

“I don’t know if you being introspective is creepy or impressive,” Dorothea said. “Listen. I’ve seen your poetry--Manuela shares the music and lyrics with me sometimes--so I  _ know _ you feel things deeply. Something is just...holding you back. Maybe it’s time to let go of whatever that thing is.”

_ “Love is a privilege, and you are unworthy of it.”  _

“I’ll give it some thought,” Lorenz said, the putrid corpses of memories pushing up through their hastily dug tombs, bony fingertips peeking through rotting hands that reached out to crush his lungs. 

“See that you do.”

“But, that’s enough seriousness,” Lorenz said. “You came here to chase away loneliness, did you not? Why don’t you tell me about what your life is like in Brigid. Have you started an opera company there? Do you think you and Manuela might put on a performance here? There are plenty of tourists who come to see Ignatz’s paintings, so I’m sure you would attract quite the crowd…”

During the course of the meal, Manuela and Hanneman stopped by to eat with them, but eventually Lorenz excused himself, unable to stomach the obvious love and affection that laced even the two professors’ petty, almost  _ playful _ , arguments. 

He retreated to the Cathedral, where the monks were busy cleaning up after the evening mass, a few parishioners lingering.

_ Is that all he really wants? My love? Can I...can I give such to him?  _ Lorenz wondered as he stuck to the edges of the massive room to eventually reach the Saints’ antechamber. _ What would that look like? I...people speak of relationships so casually, but I don’t know what that  _ means _. Relationships develop  _ after _ marriage, they don’t come before...at least, that’s how it was always presented to me.  _

Lorenz rubbed his temples and leaned against the wall.  _ It’s not that simple! Why is everyone convinced that Claude and I being...being...being  _ something _ is easy?! Or acceptable? Or, or… _ Lorenz made a soft, tight sound of frustration and ran his fingers through his hair.  _ Do I want to be with Claude? If I did, what would that look like? Would it be worth it? Why am I even considering trying? Why does it  _ hurt _ thinking about Claude being with someone else? Why do I, why do I feel  _ angry _ at the thought of letting him go? I shouldn’t care! I  _ shouldn’t--

Lorenz let out a heavy sigh.  _ I want to kiss him. I like holding him. I like it when he flirts with me. I...like  _ him _ , perhaps more than I should. And yet, I still know so little about him. I know the kinds of teas he likes, but... _

Lorenz simmered unhappily, his understanding of  _ love _ and  _ relationships _ butting up against what he had observed amongst the members of the Golden Deer. It was all so... _ different _ from what he had been told. He wasn’t sure how to untangle what he  _ actually _ felt from what he  _ thought _ he should feel and what he was  _ taught _ to feel. 

_ You were a headache when I first met you, and you have simply become a different one, _ Lorenz thought once night had fully fallen.  _ What am I going to  _ do?

Lorenz made his way back to the dorms, feeling as conflicted at the end of the day as when it had started. He let out a soft sigh as he retrieved the key to his room, and opened the door, not looking forward to another night of tossing and turning and trying to work out his feelings around Claude--only to discover Claude already comfortably sprawled out in his bed, reading a book and obviously waiting for him.

“How are you in my room?” Lorenz asked, after closing his door behind him and reflexively locking it.

Claude gave him a bright smile as he closed the book and said, “When we were still in the Academy I cajoled Ashe into teaching me how to pick locks, and these are not difficult to trip. I was very considerate and left you alone the  _ entire _ day, but found I was lonely, trying to fall asleep by myself, and you  _ did _ say I could stay with you if I got lonely…”

“Remember what you promised,” Lorenz said as he began to strip out of his day clothes down to his underwear. “Hands above my bellybutton,  _ always _ .”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Claude said with a cheeky grin, clearly enjoying watching Lorenz remove his clothes. 

“...you are a nuisance,” Lorenz grumbled and threw his shirt on Claude’s face, who perversely laughed.

“And yet you’re not kicking me out,” Claude said as he tossed Lorenz’s shirt on the chair along with the book he’d been reading.

Lorenz sighed. “No, although I’m not sure  _ why _ . Perhaps having you near will finally let me get a good night’s sleep, even if I’m sure someone will find out about this  _ somehow _ , which will only generate more rumors.”

“Nothing will ever stop people from talking,” Claude said and reached out to Lorenz as he pushed down the blankets, revealing he was only in his underwear, too. “Come. Do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

“...what on earth are you talking about?”

“Right. Do you want me to hold you, or do you want to hold me?”

Lorenz paused, thought, then said, “I’ll hold you. If your back is to me, it’ll be harder for your hands to go anywhere inappropriate.”

“If you say so,” Claude said with a smile that Lorenz felt was probably meant to be innocent but came off as conniving. 

Lorenz rolled his eyes but stretched out on the bed before rolling onto his side and pulling Claude so Claude’s back was to his (Lorenz’s) chest.

“No funny business,” Lorenz told Claude firmly, and was surprised when he felt a full-body shiver from Claude.

“You make  _ no funny business _ hard when you whisper in my ear like that,” Claude grumbled and rubbed said ear. 

“Just go to sleep, Claude.”

“Sure, sure,” Claude said and hiked the blankets back up over them. “Lorenz?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry. About last night, I mean,” Claude said. “You’re right, I overstepped.”

“What got into you?” Lorenz asked as he caught one of Claude’s hands and interlaced their fingers as insurance against inappropriate touches. He wanted to hear Claude’s reasoning. “It was...outside the norm for your usual behavior.”

“I, uh, I…” Claude semi-stuttered, his thoughts somehow derailed.

“Claude?” Lorenz prompted.

“I thought I would be able to handle people flirting with you in a mature and adult manner,” Claude said, clearly finding his bearings again. “I thought that I would be able to tolerate you flirting with other people. I was horribly wrong.”

“So...you  _ were  _ jealous?”

“How unbecoming of a king, right?”

“Indeed,” Lorenz said. 

“I’m guessing that now is the time where you say that you can’t see yourself being with someone who would behave so ridiculously?”Claude grumbled as he ran his thumb along one of Lorenz’s fingers.

“I would like to say that, but it would be a falsehood,” Lorenz said before he could stop himself. “I have...no one has ever been  _ jealous  _ over me before.”

“Really?” Claude said, seemingly shocked.

“Do not be so surprised,” Lorenz said. “Leonie wasn’t lying when she called me a pompous asshole and my behavior around women during our school days was less than exemplary, so is it really a surprise?”

“No one ever confessed to being attracted to you? Ever? At all?”

“You are strange, as always,” Lorenz said and pulled Claude a little closer. “Now, enough talk. Go to sleep.”

“Lorenz--”

“Good night.”

Claude sighed, settled himself, then murmured, “Good night.”

It was alarming, how quickly sleep claimed him, but the sense of...peace and completion he felt with Claude in his arms was undeniable.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is a bit of a roller coaster. Lorenz has _damage_ , he’s just never let anyone close enough to have it surface before. If you make it through this behemoth of a chapter, there’s a treat at the end.
> 
> CW: Mentions of: rape, corporeal punishment, child abuse, emotional and psychological trauma, miscarriage. Depiction of a panic attack, poor coping mechanisms. 
> 
> And, as always, nothing FE:3H belongs to me.

Lorenz woke to Claude still nestled comfortably against his body, and couldn’t restrain the small smile that formed on his face. Claude’s body was still limp with sleep, his breathing deep and even, his heartbeat steady. Lorenz’s dreams had been either neutral or non-existent, an overwhelming feeling of  _ contentment _ just pervading everything, and he felt actually  _ refreshed _ for the first time in days. The only difference between his restless nights and blissful unconsciousness was the man in his arms, and while it was tight with the two of them sharing a small bed, Lorenz felt legitimately  _ happy,  _ and that was worth the minor discomfort. 

The Cathedral bells chimed the hour, and Claude stirred, grumbled something, then stretched, his body arching away from Lorenz. Lorenz released his hold as Claude’s limbs tightened and twisted, the other man making charming growly noises before he abruptly relaxed and flumped back onto the bed, a sigh escaping him. Lorenz couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re not thinking of getting up yet, are you?” Claude asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’ll need to relieve myself eventually and would like to take a bath, but there’s still some time before I desperately require either of those,” Lorenz said.

Claude scooted away from Lorenz only so he could eventually roll over and be face-to-face with Lorenz, idly pushing a stray strand of hair out of Lorenz’s face as he (Claude) settled his head on the now-shared pillow. “Sleep well?”

“Very,” Lorenz reluctantly admitted. “You?”

“Yeah,” Claude affirmed. He paused, then found Lorenz’s hands with his own and cautiously intertwined their fingers, pulling their conjoined hands up to place a soft kiss to each of Lorenz’s hands before his (Claude’s) eyes closed and he snuggled in closer, their loosely clasped hands between them. “Not quite ready to get up yet, though.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lorenz said. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice to start every day like this?” Claude said around a yawn, his words trailing into one another as he seemed to be headed back to dozing. “Dream of roses all night, wake up next to a vision of a man, warm and comfy...”

Lorenz swallowed hard. “Claude…”

“Like it when you say my name all soft like that,” Claude mumbled and curled in closer.

Lorenz moved just enough to press a tentative, light kiss to Claude’s forehead, which made Claude open his eyes, warm and  _ gentle  _ affection in his gaze that left Lorenz’s insides squirming. 

“Like compliments, do you?” Claude said. “Being held by you makes me feel safe, like I’m something precious and worth protecting. I like it when you blush because your eyes seem to become even more vibrant purple and it’s arresting. I feel strong when I’m most vulnerable with you, I can tell you anything and not be afraid that you’ll use it against me or judge me.”

“Claude, I’m not that good of a person,” Lorenz whispered. “I’ve tried my best, but there are still times….when I’m my father’s son.”

“Maybe, one day, you’ll tell me what you mean by that?” Claude asked. “Because right now, the only similarities I see in you two is that you both have the same eye and hair color.”

Lorenz did not expect  _ that _ statement to be the thing that tore him open and left him breathless with pain and something like hope. If even just  _ one _ person could hear the name  _ Count Gloucester _ and think of what  _ he _ had done and not the atrocities of his  _ father _ , would that not make all his hard work worthwhile? Claude had dealt with his father at roundtables, had experienced his hatred and obstinacy first hand, and even after Lorenz had treated him poorly, Claude apparently thought  _ highly _ of him…

“Lor--” Claude started, but Lorenz cut him off by gently pressing his lips to Claude’s. There really wasn’t any other good way to convey what he (Lorenz) was feeling. The need to get Claude to stop talking out of embarrassment and fear, but also a desire to  _ thank _ him somehow could both be done and conveyed with the kiss. 

The contact was chaste and gentle, but even after Lorenz pulled away, the feeling  _ lingered _ .

“Lorenz?” Claude said, hesitant hope lacing his voice.

“Thank you,” Lorenz said. “For...for believing in me and trusting me, even though you have no reason to.”

“I have every reason to do both,” Claude said firmly, his face stained dark with a potent blush. “Please don’t run away now.”

“I can’t go anywhere without taking you with me,” Lorenz said. “Even if I let go of your hands, you’re still holding on tightly.”

“...true,” Claude said, the blush persisting. “And I mean to keep holding on tightly.”

Claude hesitated for a second before leaning in and, when Lorenz didn’t back away or flinch, Claude covered his (Lorenz’s) mouth with his own, the contact tentative, almost  _ shy _ . 

Kissing a man wasn’t  _ that _ different from what few kisses Lorenz had shared with women--it was the fact that he was kissing  _ Claude _ that changed everything. Claude had been an obsession since Lorenz first laid eyes on him, but he had thought it only because of his mysterious appearance, behavior, and heritage. The man had come out of nowhere and stolen what Lorenz had been brought up to believe was rightfully his, he couldn’t be trusted, had to be constantly watched to ensure he didn’t bring the Alliance to ruin. While it was beginning to seem like Claude had indeed taken something that belonged to Lorenz, it wasn’t anything Lorenz expected.

Claude eventually drew back without pushing for more, and looked happier than Lorenz could really remember seeing him. “I’m not going to take this as your final answer, though,” Claude said, his voice low and pleased. “You still have until we depart for Gloucester lands to decide what you want us to be, alright?”

“What I want us to be,” Lorenz repeated.

Claude nodded. “From what you’ve told me about your childhood, it seems like you’ve had few opportunities to actually  _ choose _ something for yourself, so I want to give you this. Whatever you want, I’ll accept, even if I don’t like the end result. So I’m going to head off the question I know is coming and tell you that I’m not going to tell you what  _ I _ want us to be. Maybe I’ll let you know after you’ve made your decision. Maybe never. We’ll see.”

Lorenz was  _ deeply _ confused. “Really? Even if it isn’t the outcome you want, you’ll just...give up?”

“It’s not giving up, it’s respecting your wishes,” Claude said. “I don’t want to ever  _ force _ you to feel something or do something. That’s not the kind of person I am and...I don’t want that to be the kind of relationship we have, if you  _ do _ choose me. I want anything you give to me to be given freely, without resentment or obligation.”

“Claude…”

“So, could you tell me if your kiss was genuine?”

“I wanted to kiss you, yes,” Lorenz said, feeling his face burn. “I wanted to thank you for saying something so...by all counts, you should hate me. And yet, you don’t.”

“How could I hate you?” Claude asked. “I, more than most, know what it’s like to be judged for my parents, and since I met your father before I met you, I felt _ compelled _ to give you a chance. And you exceeded all of my wildest dreams. You have...you have become one of them.”

_ Oh. _

Lorenz’s chest felt suffocatingly tight. His heart was beating too fast, he could feel his face burning even as his hands and feet were as frigid as the cadaverous hands of memory broke through the thin layer of denial that covered them to claw at him. 

_ “You are the vector by which I will achieve my dreams.” _

“Don’t say that,” Lorenz said, his voice strangled and thin as his thoughts fell over each other and into a tangled heap of panic and fear. He couldn’t be Claude’s dream when his entire childhood and adolescence had been tailored to groom him to be an absolute  _ nightmare _ for the man and the remnants of his Fodlanese family. His family had fully intended for him to drive the final nail in the coffin and end the Riegan line, snuff out their dreams, remove them from power, and place them firmly in obscurity. And Claude was saying that he was a  _ dream _ ? If he (Lorenz) hadn’t learned that there was a better way of governing, of  _ living _ , he would have had Claude’s blood on his hands long before now--he had gone against his  _ father _ in allowing Claude to survive their days as students at the Academy. He might yet be the cause of Claude’s demise, because Lorenz only knew love and affection as  _ pain _ . He’d hurt Claude, he  _ knew _ it--

“Lorenz?” Claude asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m not--I’m  _ not _ …” Lorenz started, but memories and regret strangled him into silence.

_ “It was always my dream to have children, but then I had you and my life became little better than a nightmare. But, I forgive you, Lorenz. In spite of how awful you’ve made everything, I will ensure you achieve all our dreams.” _

“Lorenz, breathe with me,” Claude said and took a deep, long breath in. 

Lorenz reflexively mimicked the breath--how could he not, being so close?--and hated that his exhale was ragged as a death rattle.

_ “I never should have told you I loved you. Now, my entire life feels like a bad dream.” _

“Lorenz, c’mon, stay with me. Match my breathing.”

_ “You will accomplish nothing if you don’t learn to breathe through the pain. I do this for  _ your _ benefit, Lorenz, because I care for you. You will not be the weakest link. You  _ will _ achieve our dream.” _

The memories were a skeletal noose, phalangeal bones built of guilt and sorrow digging into him and cutting off his air. 

_ “I trust you’ve learned your lesson about associating with commoners? They’re too weak to successfully bear Gloucester blood.” _

_ “Caring for you was her fatal mistake.” _

_ “I heard it’s because of the Young Master. Growing up to be just like his father isn’t he?” _

_ I’m not like him! _ Lorenz pleaded with his memories as he tried to shove all of them back into their mausoleum in his soul, wails of grief and rage and despair ringing in his ears.  _ I’m not! I’m better than him! _

He couldn’t think, couldn’t  _ breathe _ , he felt cold, like the crypt that was the foundation of his family’s power.

“Lorenz, look at me,  _ please.” _

Lorenz opened eyes he hadn’t known he’d closed and tried to yank away, but that only brought Claude with him, since the man hand’t let go; Lorenz rolled so he was suspended over Claude, the other man pinned beneath him. If he couldn't escape Claude, perhaps he could drive him away?

“What is your angle? What is your game? What...what...what  _ scheme _ are you running?” Lorenz demanded. Anger was easier than facing the memories.

“There’s no game!” Claude gasped out in surprise. “No angle. My scheme, it’s...I just...I love you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because no one does.”

“I can be the exception.”

“You’ll only get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I’m a Gloucester.”

“So?”

“ _ My _ family is why you have none on your mother’s side. My father killed her brother, my mother poisoned his wife to render her infertile, my ancestors did everything they could to whittle down the Riegan line to  _ nothing _ .”

_ I was supposed to kill you! _

“You are not responsible for the actions of your ancestors.”

“I am the sum of those actions!”

“What does that even mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Take back what you said.”

“No.”

“Do you want to die?”

“Will you kill me for saying I love you?”

“The only other person who ever said they loved me  _ died _ and it was all my fault,” Lorenz said, his voice cracking. He couldn’t stay angry when Claude insisted on looking up at him with sorrow in his eyes instead of the fear he could use to justify his actions; the feelings of guilt and grief Lorenz had tried desperately to bury hadn’t decayed a whit, either, and smothered the fire of feeble anger with decades of unshed tears. “I don’t want to bury you, too. Can’t you...can’t we…”

“I can’t hate you, Lorenz,” Claude said. “You’re hurting. Let me help.”

“I don’t want your help. I’m fine. I’m...I’m sorry,” Lorenz said and tried to pull back, to stop pinning Claude, but Claude  _ refused _ to let go of his hands and executed some kind of hand-to-hand combat twist that somehow managed to reverse their positions. Lorenz’s head spun from the sudden perspective shift, and when Claude shifted his grip to pin Lorenz’s hands above his head, all the fight, all his strength just  _ fled _ Lorenz. He didn’t know why, but his body  _ remembered _ to give up when put in such a position, a tremor of long-buried terror making him grow still.

“Lorenz? Look at me? Please?” Claude said, releasing Lorenz’s hands and lying down on top of Lorenz’s body, covering him in something that was somehow both claim and protection.

Lorenz forced himself to look at Claude, whose normally brilliant green eyes were clouded.

“I have been fairly open with you about...everything,” Claude said, holding Lorenz’s gaze. “Tell me what I said wrong. I don’t want to hurt you, but it seems like...it seems like there’s a whole lot more going on in here than you let on,” Claude continued, and lightly tapped over Lorenz’s heart with a finger. “And a lot of it is probably lies you were told. So could you explain to me what you meant, if only a little? It can be about anything, I won’t ask you to explain something in particular.”

_ Nothing of what transpired is easy to explain, _ Lorenz thought, his chest feeling hollow, cavernous and empty, ghastly memories still pulling at the edges of his mind with bloodless fingers.

“When I was fifteen, I fell in love with one of the maids assigned to me,” Lorenz said, settling on the memory that had escaped its tomb and circled in his mind like a banshee. “She died because of my love.”

“Whoa, hold on, there’s a  _ huge _ chunk of information in there that I’m sure you left out,” Claude said. “Why don’t you start from the beginning? And be honest. Please. I won’t judge you, I promise.”

“It’s not particularly long or interesting,” Lorenz said quietly. “I did not often come into contact with people around my age organically, and she treated me kindly, so I showered her with gifts and affection, and she grew to love me in return. Very little escapes my mother, however, and she eventually found out about my infatuation, which meant my father found out. My mother was going to whip the maid for seducing and distracting and tainting her son, but the girl did nothing wrong. I managed to convince my mother that I was at fault, that it was my weakness that was to blame, so I took the punishment instead. My father insisted that the maid needed some form of chastisement, however, for looking too far above her station.  _ His _ favored method of disciplining the female members of the household was rape, so he offered me the choice of having him rape her or do it myself. So, I did it. He might have killed her in the process, while I knew I at least would be gentle and it would be over quickly due to my inexperience. However, she became pregnant, and due to complications during her pregnancy, the child she carried--my child--ended up killing her and died as well.”

“...so, that’s how you got those scars? Not a horse riding accident, huh?”

“Do you hate me now?” Lorenz asked, his tone almost  _ hopeful _ . 

“No,” Claude said. “Not unless you tell me that the way you punish the female household members is the same as your father.”

Lorenz shook his head. “No. I dock their pay and put them on forced leave if they transgress.”

“That’s it?”

“When the woman is sometimes the only bread-winner due to a male figure being absent--I employ primarily widows and orphans from the war--not having work and not making money is often more painful than any physical punishment because the effects linger much longer.”

“Does your father still have maids assigned to him?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I fired and re-staffed the entire household when I took over--too many were loyal to him or my mother and wouldn’t follow my orders. Now, only men are allowed to answer my father’s summons, and his personal valet and butler are both men. Any female servant who has to attend to him is always escorted and never left alone with him.”

“Thank the gods,” Claude muttered. A look of  _ comprehension _ washed over Claude’s face before he buried it in Lorenz’s chest, grumbling what were probably insults in Almyran.

“Claude?” Lorenz asked and hesitantly rested his hands on Claude’s back. Claude was so...warm.

“You do know your parents were wrong to do that, right?” Claude asked, looking up and shifting so he was suspended over Lorenz and eye-level. “Part of me says they  _ orchestrated _ that all.”

“What? Preposterous.”

“Maybe not as much as you’d like to think,” Claude said. “Hey, Lorenz.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

“And why not?”

“You’re a king and a man, and I can give you nothing. Loving me is pointless.”

“Love isn’t about obtaining something.”

“Of course it is,” Lorenz said. “It’s in the language we use to describe it. You give someone love, your heart, your body, children, and so forth. And if it isn’t given, then love is taken. You steal someone’s heart, you steal their breath away, and so on. Love is...transactional, at least among the nobility.”

Claude took a deep breath, paused, then let it out in a gusty sigh. “I hate your family.”

“You are not alone.”

That caused Claude to snort. “True. Why don’t  _ you  _ hate your family?”

_ “You are the inheritor of these secrets now. If they come to light, it will be  _ you _ who will take the fall and be known in ignimity forever.” _

“They’re my family,” Lorenz said absently as he carefully tugged on the magic at his core to wrap chains of stubbornness around the bars to the graveyard that held his memories. “I can’t hate them. They’ve only ever wanted me to achieve greatness and did what they thought necessary to ensure I could.”

“They abused you.”

“No, they didn’t.”

“Lorenz,” Claude sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Okay, I’m going to walk you through something called a thought experiment.”

“...very well?”

“If I were a woman and told you  _ I love you,  _ what would you say?”

“I...ah, suppose it would depend on context and tone,” Lorenz said, his voice weak. “Because--”

“If I was a woman and told you, right now, in the same tone I have been, that  _ I love you _ , what would you say? Just tell me the first thing that comes to mind.”

“I’m honored.”

There. That was a safe answer, wasn’t it? If a woman had come up to him and told him ‘I love you,’ he would say that with one of his best smiles and then try to figure out if she was telling him it on a dare or if it was meant in honesty, and what to do if she  _ was _ being honest. 

Claude seemed dangerously thoughtful. “I suppose it’s a relief to know that it’s not my sex that’s keeping you from responding the way I want you to. ‘I’m honored’ seems like just a more polite way of saying what you told me flat-out. How many people in your life have told you that they love you?”

“One? Rachelle--the maid,” Lorenz said after a long moment of thinking, using the time to bring himself more under control. 

“That’s it?”

“You’re the first person since Rachelle to see me as…” Lorenz trailed off. What  _ did _ Claude see him as?

“As a person,” Claude finished for him. “No, as a man. As someone deserving of love,  _ worthy _ of it.”

“Claude, I don’t deserve--”

“Yes, you do,” Claude interrupted. 

“But, I--”

“You’re sexy,” Claude cut in.

Lorenz blinked and hated how hot his face promptly became, flustered embarrassment somehow serving as a bulwark against the memories that still stalked the darker edges of his mind. “What?”

“Every time you start to say you’re unlovable or some such nonsense, I’m going to compliment you.”

“Why?”

“Because it derails you and I think you’re adorable when you blush.”

That, of course, made his blush only deepen. “Claude.”

Claude leaned down and pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s forehead, making his (Lorenz’s) stomach squirm.

“I do need to ask something of you,” Lorenz said when Claude had pulled back.

“Yeah?” 

“Could you...in your attempts to court me, please don’t try to make me jealous,” Lorenz said and rested his hands on his own stomach pointedly, as he had begun to  _ pet _ Claude, running his fingers through Claude's chest hair and tracing the musculature of his abdomen. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to listen to my better angels if you do.”

Claude tilted his head slightly in a request for clarification. 

“If you try to make me jealous by flirting with someone else or allowing another person to flirt with you, I might actually kill that other person just to make absolutely sure that nothing happens,” Lorenz reluctantly admitted.

“...that’s a bit extreme.”

“Obstacles between you and that which you desire shall not be tolerated,” Lorenz said, paraphrasing his father. “While that can be applied to situations or things, it has also been very liberally applied to people, too, by my family. I like to think I’m better than them, but I also don’t want to push my luck.”

“No wonder House Gloucester has no enemies in spite of being widely disliked,” Claude said. “You just get rid of ‘em, don’t you?”

“Corpses can’t take revenge or plot against you,” Lorenz said with a slight shrug. “That’s what my ancestors and father believed, anyway. Unlike them, I try diplomacy first, of course, but...will admit that I have employed assassins when someone was becoming too much of a  _ Problem _ .”

“Really?”

“I told you, I’m still my father’s son in spite of my attempts to be otherwise.”

“Lorenz,” Claude sighed. “Question.”

“Hm?”

“May I kiss you?”

“You still want to?” Lorenz asked, mystified.

“Of course I do. Nothing you’ve told me has stopped me from feeling how I do about you,” Claude said. “I wanted to kiss you the first time you held me, during the rainstorm. I wanted to kiss you when I woke up in your arms in Riverton, during our bath in the spring, when you  _ loomed _ over me in Goldenfields, and any number of times during our travels. I wanted to kiss you good morning and good night, reward you with kisses for when you did a particularly good job with your Almyran. I wanted to kiss away the pain in your eyes when you spoke about your family. I had hoped that the reward you would ask for for finding me in the side room at the Cathedral was a kiss, wanted to kiss you to prove my sincerity when I confessed in the greenhouse, and wanted to kiss you during the feast to claim you in front of all the people who would dare try to take you from me. And I would very much like to kiss you now. May I? You can say no.”

“Claude…”

“Yes?”

“My father told me love was a fairy tale made up by the nobility to give the commonfolk hope that their lives could be actually worthwhile,” Lorenz said. “My mother told me people might claim to love me, to want me, but that their words would always be lies. No one would ever want Lorenz, they want the Gloucester name, wealth, power, and bloodline, and I should be on guard to not let pretty words cloud my good sense. I don’t  _ think _ you’re lying to me but…”

“But being told those kinds of things would make  _ anyone _ eye declarations of love warily.”

“I lied to you, about not knowing why my previous engagements fell through,” Lorenz admitted. “The first time I was engaged fell through because I was not intelligent enough for my betrothed’s family. The second time I was told it was because they couldn’t imagine being forced to look at my horse-face for the rest of their lives and that I was too physically weak to be the true protector that their daughter needed. After that, I began questioning the motives of any girl who showed remote interest in me and became exceptionally good at eavesdropping at formal balls and functions. People wanted and feared me in equal parts, but only because I was Count Gloucester’s son. I actually caught a few warning people away from trying to get to know me because ‘Gloucesters are like the jeweled vipers from Brigid--fascinating, but highly venomous.’”

Claude stared at him for a long moment before surprising Lorenz by shifting to lie down beside him again, then dragged him into a tight hug, muttering darkly the entire time as he lightly stroked Lorenz’s back. Lorenz had to squirm slightly to get into a position where he could breathe easily, his face turned into Claude’s neck, just enough space for him to get reliable fresh air while also feeling surrounded by Claude’s scent. 

“Lorenz?”

“Hm.”

“It is now my life’s mission to help you realize that your parents did you a  _ massive _ disservice, so I’m going to tell you ‘I love you’ so often that you’re going to get sick of hearing it from me. But, I want you to promise me that each time I say ‘I love you,’ to you that you’ll say, ‘How could you not?’”

Lorenz frowned in confusion and stilled his hand from drawing circles on the small of Claude’s back. “Why?”

“Because you’re deserving of love and if you agree with me each time, then maybe eventually you’ll start  _ believing  _ what you’re saying one day.”

“Claude, from what discussions I’ve had with everyone else, they see romantic relationships as a partnership of mutual benefit, and I don’t see what you’re getting out of loving me except sadness and pain, and  _ you _ deserve more than that after  _ your _ childhood.”

Claude was silent for a moment, then said, “So, a rite of adulthood that many Almyran children undergo is the taming of their first wild wyvern. It’s not  _ necessary _ , and usually safer to breed wyvern in captivity because then they imprint on you, but if you want the best of the best--like Tempest, my wyvern--you have to find and tame a young, wild wyvern. The problem is that wyvern are  _ dangerous _ , unpredictable, territorial, and picky little shits. Most kids who try to tame one go about it the wrong way. You can’t  _ force _ a wyvern to like you. You have to spend time stalking the nest, getting the wyvern you’ve chosen accustomed to your presence and scent, to not see you as a threat. You’ll probably have to deal with getting bitten a few times and nearly chased off a cliff-side to your death, but persistence is key. Well, that and gifts. You hunt for two when you try to convince a wyvern to give you a chance. 

But, see, wyvern are  _ smart _ . They’ll realize that  _ you _ are the one hunting and bringing down game successfully, and will eventually come to the conclusion that working with you will probably up their chances of eating deer instead of rabbit. They’ll gradually let you in close enough to touch. Then you have to get them to accept the feeling of a saddle and how it affects their flying, then to the weight of your body on their shoulders. It can take  _ weeks _ , and sometimes you’re not successful even if you do everything right. But, if you  _ do _ manage to gain the wyvern’s trust and companionship, then you have a powerful ally on your side, someone you can accomplish greater things with than you could ever do on your own. 

You’re...kinda like that. I’ve gotten you used to my physical presence, so I guess now I should move on to gifts, huh? Should I buy out the merchants of their tea here and have it sent to Goneril territory so you won’t run out while we’re traveling in Almyra? I should see if Fodlanese species of roses can bloom in Almyran soil, too. You like music, right? Maybe I should have a music box made for you with a section of your favorite song, or get a collection of sheet music of Fodlanese songs and operas and whatnot so we might be able to put on performances in the capital in the future. I’m sure Dorothea and Manuela would oblige and introduce opera to my people. Do you play an instrument? I might have one made and delivered to my palace so you’ll be able to play at your leisure while you’re with me in Almyra.”

“You don’t have to do any of that,” Lorenz murmured in response, feeling vastly overwhelmed. 

“I know I don’t  _ have _ to, but I  _ want _ to,” Claude replied. “I’ll start with tea and roses, though. Almyra can be pretty barren in some places, so maybe I’ll bring other Fodlanese flower seeds as well, and we’ll see if any of them survive. That way you’ll have fresh flowers every day.”

Lorenz was one more unnecessarily nice gesture away from crying hysterically--what was Claude  _ doing _ , why was he being  _ nice _ , he had just told him things he had fully planned to never reveal to anyone, Claude should  _ hate him _ \--so gently pushed away from Claude and said, “I...thank you, Claude. I do need to relieve myself now, though, and would like to take a bath.”

“Of course,” Claude said, releasing him. “I have a couple meetings today and promised to help Annette teach as an apology for Felix and I performing a rendition of one of her songs for her students during the feast. I’m sure you’ve got people you want to meet, too. Before you go though…”

“Yes?”

Claude found Lorenz’s hands, and brought them both up to his lips for a gentle kiss before he said, “Thank you for trusting me and being vulnerable. I’m sure you’ve told probably no one else what you’ve told me, and it’s an honor that you feel safe enough to tell me things that hurt you to even remember.”

Lorenz wasn’t fully able to hold back the tears, his vision going a bit hazy and wobbly from the accumulation of liquid, and, to his shame, two tears did manage to escape. “You’ve been honest with me about things I’m sure you’ve told no one else, either. It would be ignoble of me to not reciprocate such trust.”

But, was that really it…?

“Still,” Claude said and released Lorenz’s hands to wipe away the stray tears. “I’ll even be nice and pretend I didn’t see that.”

Lorenz snorted at that, the faintest of something that was barely-not-a-grimace forming on his face. “Right. Do you intend to invade my room again tonight?”

“If you’ll let me,” Claude said with a wink. “I’ll bring flowers this time, too. The roses look a little squished.”

Lorenz resented how easily Claude made him blush. “I did not notice them until I had laid down on the bed.”

“And yet you took the time to arrange them neatly and save what you could,” Claude pointed out. “Sorry, one more thing before you leave.”

“Yes?”

Claude pressed a delicate kiss to the tip of Lorenz’s nose and said, “I think you’re exceedingly handsome and anyone who calls you ugly has their head up their own ass.”

Lorenz couldn’t help but laugh, which prompted Claude to laugh as well.

“I love your laugh,” Claude said once they had simmered down. 

“Claude.”

“I do. I love  _ you _ .”

Lorenz took a breath, reined in his knee-jerk response at the disapproving look from Claude, then managed more weakly, “Of course you do.”

“Exactly,” Claude said and gave him a final light kiss on the forehead. “I should get myself together for the day, too.”

Claude fully let go of Lorenz, then climbed off the bed. He paused for a moment and swiped one of Lorenz’s handkerchiefs off of the desk and said, “You’ll get this back later.”

“Why are you taking it?”

“Because while you somehow have the self-control of a saint, I sure as hell don’t and when I’m taking care of myself in my borrowed room, I  _ would _ like something that smells like you to make it easier and better,” Claude said with a wry smile and a wink before he whistled tunelessly and left a bewildered Lorenz alone, closing the door gently behind him.

It took Lorenz longer than he would like to admit to process what Claude  _ meant _ . Lorenz changed into the previous day’s clothes and quickly gathered the necessary new clothes and supplies before he nearly threw himself out of his room once he understood what Claude  _ meant _ . Knowing that Claude was thinking of  _ him _ while masturbating was deeply embarrassing, and he found himself torn between the perverse desire to listen to see if he did that and the equally strong impulse to give Claude his privacy because masturbation was shameful and he didn’t know why Claude seemed  _ okay  _ with it. 

_ What a morning, _ Lorenz sighed to himself as he walked towards the bathhouse.  _ I can’t believe I told him those things! What was I thinking?! I don’t--I don’t  _ regulate _ well in the mornings until I have my first cup of tea, and he was being so nice, but then...damnit. What do I do now?! He can’t bring anything against me, father got rid of all the evidence, so I’m not in danger, per se, but... _

Being as early as it was, the hot water might not be fully on in the bathhouse, but there would also be fewer people, and that was what he was hoping for more than anything else; he was still feeling too  _ raw _ for conversation. To his surprise, however, it seemed like the male students from Brigid were also fans of early morning baths, since quite a few were hanging out in both the sauna and bath, chatting softly in their native tongue. Lorenz was apparently  _ instantly _ recognizable, but he had grown up being stared at and whispered about, so was more than capable of going about taking care of his various needs and bathing himself without engaging. 

From his experience with Petra, it seemed like Brigidians were naturally curious, so it took him being very  _ pointed _ about not wanting to talk to get the students to simmer and gossip amongst themselves and not bother him. 

His body was still buzzing with tension, and the memories still rattled and moaned within their mausoleum, so he was probably unnecessarily rough and thorough when washing himself; however, the cloying film of sorrow was stuck to his skin, and he needed to rid himself of it if he was going to be at all productive and personable during the day. As he dumped water over his head, he pretended that the soap was the parasitic remnants of his memories and watched them swirl down the drain. He took in a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. His skill with magic was the only reason he could corral the memories as well as he did, and why his visualizations usually worked. He wasn’t sure if his experience with magic was the same as others’, but his system worked for him and that was what mattered. It left him feeling at least  _ relatively _ normal again.

Having revealed one of his greatest shames to Claude was somehow both intensely distressing and incredibly freeing. Claude’s reaction went starkly against how he had been told people would react to that event of his past, leaving Lorenz anxious and baffled. 

_ How could he insinuate my parents orchestrated such a thing? _ He wondered as he watched the water swirl down the drain.  _ And what did he understand? How does he not hate me? I know I killed hundreds of people in the war, but her death was different, unfair, unjust, and exclusively my fault. I did something...despicable. I should have resisted, I should have done... _ something _. So, then, why…? _

No answer came to him as the last soap suds disappeared into darkness. 

He was relieved to find, upon finishing washing himself, that the communal hot pool was, indeed, hot, and sunk into the water up to just beneath his eyes and blew out pensive bubbles into the hot water. It was more-or-less impossible to deny that Claude made him  _ feel things _ that were distinctly ignoble and rattled the cage of the vicious thing he was at his core, putting them both in danger. The days were slipping away and each one that passed complicated matters more thoroughly. He had to give Claude an answer as to whether or not he wanted a, a….a  _ relationship _ with him by the time they headed out for Gloucester lands, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that a part of him desperately wanted to see where something like that would go--he would not have kissed Claude otherwise. However, he was also absolutely certain that it would be a waste of time; he was supposed to get married and have children and that was that. 

He also really,  _ really _ didn’t want to hurt Claude.

_ What do I  _ do _? _ Lorenz wondered and ran his fingers through his hair.  _ He has such potent blackmail, so...perhaps I am almost required to try a relationship with him now? He knows too many damning details about my life not to? But, at the same time, I think he’d be offended if I told him that was why I agreed to try being with him. Why must he always  _ complicate _ my life?! Can’t he see all these thorns aren’t worth it!? _

The door from the antechamber opened and Lorenz nearly groaned in dismay as Claude walked through, a towel tied around his waist. There was  _ no _ way that Claude showing up while he (Lorenz) was present was coincidence, and the small, pleased smile Claude shot him confirmed that. 

“Ah, there you are,” Claude said.

It did not escape Lorenz’s notice that the bathhouse immediately cleared of everyone else after Claude said that. Lorenz wasn’t sure whether he should feel betrayed or relieved. 

“I  _ told _ you I would be taking a bath,” Lorenz asked mildly and leaned back against the wall of the pool, looking over his shoulder as Claude selected supplies out of the general offerings provided by Garreg Mach. “Do not feign surprise.”

“Well, you  _ could _ have finished by now, so there was no guarantee you’d be here...”

Lorenz ran his fingers through his still-wet hair, irritated, when an  _ idea _ struck as a way to  _ finally _ get back at Claude for causing a scene during the feast. Lorenz didn’t consider himself a particularly  _ underhanded _ person, but given how flat-footed Claude had consistently caught him,  _ underhanded _ was exactly what was called for. 

He also...just wanted to touch Claude now that he was bare before him. If Claude liked being touched by Lorenz, Lorenz found that he derived pleasure from touching him and watching his reactions. It felt odd to Lorenz, but he had a feeling that it was normal to like touching the person one was attracted to--not that he was attracted to Claude--and his discomfort with it stemmed from most touch being associated with pain for him.

“Why don’t you let me help?” Lorenz said as he crossed the pool before pushing himself up and out of it, then walked over to Claude, who was perched on a low stool over a drain, hot water running into a nearby bucket. 

“If you wish to, I won’t turn you down,” Claude said with a smile that turned into a sputtering laugh when Lorenz took the partly-fulled bucket and poured it over Claude’s head, making sure to thoroughly wet his hair as well as drench Claude’s upper body. He stuck the bucket back under the running water, then plucked the offered bottle of hair-cleaning oil from Claude’s hand, standing purposefully in  _ front _ of Claude.

“Bend your head down slightly,” Lorenz semi-commanded, and Claude did so, allowing Lorenz to begin to work the oil through Claude’s hair; Lorenz took slight pleasure in how he could see the tips of Claude’s ears darken slightly with a blush. An idea struck as Claude seemed to almost purr as Lorenz worked the shampoo through, and it was just dickish enough to finish settling his unruly emotions and reestablish his bearings.

“Your Royal Majesty?”

“Hm?”

“I want to practice the Almyran words for parts of the body,” Lorenz said as nonchalantly as possible. “So, will you allow me to wash  _ all _ of you? For practice, of course.”

Claude looked up quickly, and only Lorenz pushing and holding his hair back kept suds from flying into his eyes. Lorenz clucked his tongue in disapproval and said, “Do you want to get oil in your eyes?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but did you just say you want to wash my entire body?” Claude asked, his face darker than usual.

“In order to practice my Almyran,” Lorenz said, trying to sound as  _ innocent _ as possible. “I haven’t had many opportunities to use that vocabulary, and this seems as good an excuse as any.”

Claude visibly swallowed, then gave him an unsure-but-game smile and said, “Sure.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said, unable to stop his smile from becoming something slightly more wicked. Claude was a schemer, but Lorenz had a family history of subversive assholery, and he  _ had _ absorbed  _ some _ of it. Claude looked somehow both pleased and apprehensive, his eyes sliding down Lorenz’s body before focusing pointedly on the floor.

Lorenz carefully washed Claude’s hair, giving him a leisurely scalp massage as he did so. He said the Almyran word for  _ head _ with just a little bit of a mispronunciation, so Claude had to correct him, and he kept on washing until his pronunciation was correct.

“There,” Lorenz said once he was sure all the oil was rinsed out. “Now, stand up.”

Claude did as asked, stretching as he did so, which Lorenz was quite aware was meant to show off his (Claude’s) body; therefore, he pointedly  _ didn’t _ respond, instead focusing on making the washcloth appropriately soapy. 

“Now, I need you to pay attention to make sure I pronounce the words correctly,” Lorenz said, again standing in front of Claude.

“I’ll be fine,” Claude said.

“Oh, I’m  _ certain _ ,” Lorenz said, then stepped in so his lips were right next to Claude’s ear, only the width of Lorenz’s hand keeping their bodies apart. Lorenz  _ slowly _ began to run the washcloth over Claude’s body, keeping his voice low and deep as he named the body parts he caressed with the flimsy excuse of the washcloth. Each time he pulled away to either rinse off the body part or apply more soap to the washcloth, Claude’s face seemed to get darker, to the point that his blush slowly worked its way down his neck and shoulders to his chest, and he was  _ obviously _ fighting arousal. Which was, admittedly, the point of it all. 

“You’re not going to wash--” Claude started, but his voice cut off when Lorenz went down on one kneee in front of him, picked up one of Claude’s feet, and braced it on top of his (Lorenz’s) knee; Claude reflexively reached out and steadied himself with the opposite hand on Lorenz’s shoulders. 

“What were you going to say?” Lorenz asked as innocently as he could with what he was  _ certain _ was a rather smug smirk as he began to wash Claude’s leg. From how badly and visibly Claude shivered, it seemed like the inside of his thigh was at the very  _ least _ sensitive, although potentially more so given how Claude was lightly chewing on the thumbnail of his free hand in an attempt to distract himself. 

“You’re a dick,” Claude growled.

“You never did teach me the Almyran word for penis, you know,” Lorenz said, the washcloth straying momentarily very close to Claude’s groin before Lorenz switched the washcloth between his hands, sliding it to momentarily cup Claude’s glutes, then come around to his outer thigh. 

Claude was clearly suffering, and it was beautiful. Served him right after flirting with him so boldly during the feast and interfering with his plans. Lorenz wasn’t  _ quite _ sure how they remained undisturbed for so long, but figured that his behavior and Claude’s reactions were too charged for other people to feel comfortable sharing the baths with them. As he rinsed off the leg he had very thoroughly washed and named, Lorenz looked up at Claude through his eyelashes, and Claude made a strangled, agonized sound.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he groaned, although was clearly transfixed.

“Like what?” Lorenz said and put Claude’s leg back down before switching both his body and Claude’s to work on the other side.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Nonsense. How’s my accent?”

“Getting better.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Damn right I am,” Claude muttered darkly.

Once Lorenz had finished  _ practicing  _ the specific words for Claude’s legs, he stood then walked around to Claude’s back, quickly reaching out to stop Claude from turning. “I need to do your back, too, you know.”

“You did a  _ great _ job, you can stop, I can take care of the rest,” Claude said quickly, using what seemed like only one breath. 

“Oh, no, certainly not,” Lorenz said as he dragged the soaped washcloth down Claude’s spine. “I’d hate to leave a job... _ unfinished _ .”

Claude swore vehemently and shivered. 

Lorenz, meanwhile, continued to name parts--shoulders, back, etc.--and didn’t stifle a dark chuckle when Claude’s glutes tensed as Lorenz made sure to wash them, too. Claude’s shoulders dropped in relief once Lorenz finished rinsing off the soap. Lorenz tossed the washcloth in the laundry and laid a towel out on the warm benches in the sauna as Claude stood in the baths, face in his hands, clearly trying to compose himself. Lorenz briskly dried himself and draped a towel over his own shoulders to catch whatever moisture dripped off his hair, then returned to the baths, where Claude looked to have regained control.

“You’re such an assh--” Claude actually  _ yelped _ in surprise when Lorenz picked him up in a bridal-carry and clung to him, an expression of something between astonishment, fear, and arousal flashing across Claude’s face. “You...I didn’t think you were this strong.”

“I’m glad I’m still capable of surprising,” Lorenz drawled, feeling inordinately pleased with himself as he carried Claude out of the bath portion and into the sauna to dry off. He set Claude down gently on the towel he had laid out, but caught Claude’s wrist before he could reach for another towel with which to dry himself.

“Oh, no, what makes you think I’m done with practicing?” Lorenz asked.

“What? You’re not?” Claude asked. “But you already--”

“No, practice makes perfect, and I want more practice,” Lorenz confirmed and picked up the towel that Claude had been reaching for. He draped it over Claude’s head and began to gently dry his hair. “You never taught me the word for hair, just head. What is it?”

Claude said the word, his voice strained, and Lorenz repeated it back to him.

“How about neck?” Lorenz asked as he gently massaged Claude’s neck, wiping away any excess water with the towel. Claude was unsuccessful at suppressing a pleased moan as Lorenz massaged his neck and upper shoulders, tilting his head slightly to give Lorenz better access. “Claude?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the Almyran word for neck?”

Claude told him, and Lorenz repeated it back until he had the pronunciation right, continuing to massage Claude’s neck and shoulders the entire time. Claude’s forehead was resting against his (Lorenz’s) chest by the time he was content with his pronunciation, the man’s breath light and fast against his skin. 

“Why’d you stop?” Claude complained when Lorenz pushed back on Claude’s shoulders so the man was no longer slumped forward.

“Because there’s more of your body to... _ review _ ,” Lorenz said. 

“Are you trying to seduce me, Lorenz?”

_ Do you mean it? _ Hung in the air unspoken.

“Would  _ I  _ do such a thing?” Lorenz asked. “This is  _ purely _ academic.”

Claude muttered something that was probably the Almyran equivalent of  _ bullshit _ . 

“Of course, if you are uncomfortable, I could always stop--”

“No, no, don’t stop,” Claude cut in, seeming to decide something. “You’re--you’re not allowed to stop until I’m completely dry.”

“Of course, Your Royal Majesty,” Lorenz said and moved on to drying off Claude’s back. It was always remarkable to Lorenz, how much tension Claude seemed to carry, and how that tension all seemed to gradually melt away as long as Lorenz touched him. Due to being an archer, Claude had a delightfully developed upper body.When he began to dry one of Claude’s arms, Lorenz made sure to use long, languid strokes, wrapping his fingers around as much of the appendage as possible.

“Does Almyran differentiate between upper and lower arms?” Lorenz asked while deliberately suggestively curling the towel and his hand around Claude’s forearm and stroking it to dry it off.

Claude was momentarily fixated, and from how wide his eyes were, Lorenz was 95% certain where his mind actually was, so Lorenz moved on to drying Claude’s hand, massaging it while doing so.

He did  _ not _ expect the moan that escaped Claude, and quirked an eyebrow; Claude looked embarrassed. He coughed, then said, “No, Almyran doesn’t differentiate between parts of the arm, and where did you learn to give a hand massage?”

“That’s a secret,” Lorenz teased. Telling Claude the truth would ruin the mood. “You like it?”

The dry look that Claude treated him to spoke volumes--yes, he liked it  _ a lot _ .

Once done, Lorenz gently placed Claude’s arm at his side, then started on Claude’s other arm, making sure to practice all the words he could. He would fully admit to being a  _ tiny _ bit of a dick in how suggestive he kept his movements and how he positioned both himself and Claude, since it was obvious from Claude’s ever-present blush that he was using the time to admire Lorenz’s body. By the time he finished Claude’s other hand, the man was blushing furiously again, so Lorenz impulsively placed the lightest of kisses to the very tips of Claude’s fingers.

Claude honest-to-goddess  _ giggled _ .

Having Claude so metaphorically and literally off-balance was a strange kind of high, and it was easy to push him so he was lying down on the warm towel, and the look of  _ overwhelm _ on his face as Lorenz knelt between his legs and began to dry off Claude’s torso was delightful. It was  _ intoxicating _ , seeing Claude semi-sprawled beneath him, watching him second guess every one of Lorenz’s touches, alternating between the rougher towel and his fingertips, making Claude flinch and jump, he clearly having decided to give up any attempt at controlling his response and just relish the sensations. A surprisingly large part of Lorenz thrilled at Claude’s behavior, and there was something alluring about how Claude bit his lip as Lorenz hooked Claude’s knee on his shoulder, giving him better access to Claude’s thigh. Lorenz was  _ very _ deliberate about making sure to touch and dry everywhere but Claude’s groin, and each time Lorenz’s touch strayed close, Claude seemed to hold his breath. A large part of Lorenz  _ wanted _ to touch, but a more perverse part was enjoying watching Claude suffer.

“Is there a difference in Almyran to differentiate between upper and lower legs?”

“Huh?”

“Does Almyran differentiate between thigh and calf?”

“N-no,” Claude said as Lorez removed Claude’s leg from his shoulder to dry off his knee, then work down his calf to his ankle and foot before placing it down on the floor. He promptly picked up the other leg and threw it over his shoulder, starting again on Claude’s thigh, straying close to Claude’s burgeoning erection, the towel occasionally brushing against it but never Lorenz’s hand, making Claude wince sometimes and shiver.

Once he fully finished drying off Claude, he leaned over and draped the towel across Claude’s stomach, not  _ quite _ covering Claude’s crotch. “Thank you for letting me practice my vocabulary and for teaching me some new words,” Lorenz said before backing away and standing. Lorenz did not think he would take such perverse glee from leaving Claude flustered, face flushed dark, gaping at him in something between outrage, confusion, and amusement. 

“Lorenz--” Cluade started, standing, the towel sliding down his stomach to catch on his erection, covering it with a kind of false modesty.

“I have a meeting scheduled with the Professor,” Lorenz said, cutting in. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait--!”

Lorenz dodged Claude’s grasp, grabbed his bath supplies, and headed towards the antechamber where he had put his clothes; there was something thrilling in the sound of frustration mixed with laughter that followed him instead of Claude. Lorenz felt giddy and smug and it was  _ weird _ . 

Lorenz was distinctly unsurprised to find a gaggle of wide-eyed students in the changing room, all of whom refused to make eye contact with him and who quickly vanished into the baths when he just quirked an eyebrow, some leaving rather important items behind. Lorenz shook his head and chuckled, quickly changing back into his clothes. 

_ Garreg Mach lives for rumors, so I’m sure this will be blown massively out of proportion in no time, _ he thought.  _ I wonder what the story will eventually end up being. Now, to make myself scarce. Where will Claude  _ not _ look for me? Let’s try to find Lysithea. _

The smug feeling  _ lingered _ and mellowed into a kind of giddy awe that he would do something so  _ forward _ , and he hummed his favorite aria as he dropped off his dirty clothes to be laundered, returned his supplies to his room, then meandered through Garreg Mach, ignoring the feeling of being  _ watched _ , eventually stepping into the Crestological Research Lab to find Lysithea busy at work, a pile of books on either side of her as she scribbled in an equally massive tome.

Lorenz stood across the desk from her and waited for her to recognize his presence--the last time he had accidentally startled her when she was deep in working he had needed to dodge a bolt of dark magic from her. Eventually,  _ something _ tipped her off to his presence, and she looked up, blinking blearily. “Oh, Lorenz. What do you want?”

“Just wanted to check in on you,” Lorenz said with a smile. “You’re usually busy with your research and I tend to be busy with running the Alliance territories.”

Lyisthea let out a surprisingly heavy sigh. “Oh, thank the goddess.”

“What? Did you think I’d want something else?”

“My boyfriend said something to your boyfriend that made him a bit of a jerk, so…” Lysithea said, not quite looking at Lorenz, tapping the tip of her quill on the parchment of the book.

“Boyfri--Claude isn’t my  _ boyfriend _ ,” Lorenz said, although how badly he blushed did his denial no favors.

“Sure he isn’t,” Lysithea said, doubt dripping from every syllable. “Then again, the term boyfriend really doesn’t suit him, does it? I guess lover would work better.”

Lorenz was beginning to feel dizzy from how heavily he was blushing. “He isn’t my lover either!”

“Campus rumors say otherwise,” Lysithea said, leaning on the desk, crossing her arms in front of her. “They’re rather inventive and  _ explicit _ .”

“Oh dear,” Lorenz muttered and rubbed his face.  _ And I most certainly did neither of us any favors with my actions in the bathhouse. Damn. _

“Sit down before you fall down,” Lysithea said. “You look like you’re going to pass out. It’s...actually a bit cute?”

“Oh, quiet,” Lorenz said, but did as suggested, taking a seat on the desk, since there was no chair available besides the one Lysithea was occupying. “What are you researching?”

“Why some people can use dark magic and others cannot,” Lysithea said. “That and where exactly the difference lies between  _ dark _ and  _ black _ magic.”

“It is rather odd that offensive magic can fall into two separate categories like that. Have you made any headway?” Lorenz asked, forcing himself to ignore the word  _ lover _ pinging around in his head and the absolute surety that Claude was angling for that eventually. He hated the low, simmering possessiveness that wrapped around  _ lover _ and slowly morphed it into  _ mine _ , because he  _ knew _ that was his family’s influence speaking and he  _ refused _ to be like them. Claude was his own person, he belonged to no one but himself, he wasn’t a thing to be  _ possessed _ . 

Thankfully, following along with Lysithea’s insane leaps and bound of logic and brilliance wasn’t a particularly  _ easy _ task, so while Lorenz wasn’t invested in knowing the actual differences between the magic, it was blissfully consuming until the bell rang for 9:45. 

“Ah, I have a meeting with the Professor,” Lorenz said, pulling away from being bent over Lysithea’s book. “We should meet for tea sometime.”

“Really?” Lysithea said, surprised.

“Of course,” Lorenz said. “You’re brilliant and I enjoy talking with you.”

Lysithea’s face flushed at that and she said, “Okay, fine. How’s tomorrow sound?”

“Sounds wonderful to me,” Lorenz said and slid off the desk. “Say hello to Cyril and Hanneman for me.”

“Certainly,” Lysithea said.

Lorenz felt her eyes on him as he left, her gaze thoughtful. 

_ I wonder what I said or did, _ Lorenz thought as he left the Research Lab for the Audience Chamber.  _ I don’t think I was inappropriate, was I? _

It wasn’t hard to  _ feel _ the stares of the students, and  _ whispers _ trailed him as he walked, all of which he did his best to ignore. After all, people loved gossip and talking, and he was sure  _ someone  _ would be more than happy to spill everything to him if he asked nicely enough--it just wasn’t the time to do so. He had to get his head back in the game and focus on broader, national and international concerns. The Problem of Claude was going nowhere.

The Professor was waiting in the audience chamber, talking softly with Ferdinand, who left with a quick smile at Lorenz.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Your Serene Excellency,” Lorenz said and kissed the offered hand.

“Of course,” the Professor said with a benign smile. “Why don’t we take our meeting to the terrace, since Seteth  _ did _ block off the rest of the morning and it’s lovely this time of year.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Lorenz said and compulsively offered his arm.

The Professor smiled faintly and looped their arm through his, and together they left the Audience Chamber and ascended the flight of stairs to the third floor, then out onto the balcony. Lorenz recognized the table as the same from their lunch a few days prior, and pulled out the Professor’s seat before taking a place across from them.

“So, do you have a plan of succession in place?” the Professor asked, interlacing their fingers and leaning slightly forward to rest their forearms on the table.

“No,” Lorenz admitted. “But Marianne  _ has _ agreed to take over control of the Alliance.”

“Really?” the Professor said before looking thoughtful. “No, perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised. She truly has come into her own.”

“That she has,” Lorenz agreed.

“It is unlike you to not already have a plan to present me, though. Is something wrong?”

“Ah, yes, my apologies,” Lorenz said, his face heating in shame. “I admit that i have been distracted by a few things.”

“A few things, or one person in particular?”

“...are you teasing me, Professor?” Lorenz asked, not liking the subdued laughter in the Professor’s eyes, even if their expression was serene and serious.

“Of course not,” the Professor  _ obviously _ lied.

“I will have a plan available for your approval before I leave,” Lorenz promised. “But, even without that, there is still much to discuss about the state of the Alliance and its holdings.”

The Professor nodded, and they set to discussion in earnest. Peace came with its own share of problems, and not everyone liked the progressive and revolutionary policies Lorenz put in place, even if the Professor backed him up on all counts. Their discussion continued into the lunch hour, wherein Ferdinand joined them and derailed further productivity, since Lorenz  _ had _ to ask how the Professor remembered Ferdinand’s proposal, and nearly died laughing when they confirmed Ferdinand had almost fainted with relief upon the Professor agreeing to marry him.

The last time he had been with the Professor and Ferdinand together, he had seen the little touches, the secret smiles around seemingly innocuous phrases that he knew were inside, intimate jokes, the way they seemed to  _ gravitate _ towards each other, and had thought little of it, had even had a passing thought that it vacillated between  _ cute  _ and  _ annoying _ . After all his conversations and the events of the past days, it strangely made his chest ache. But, he would  _ never _ begrudge his best friend his happiness, so shoved the feeling away to be examined  _ much _ later. 

“Is it okay if I stay here?” Lorenz asked when the Professor and Ferdinand stood to leave the Terrace when lunch was concluded and his time with them was technically at an end.

“I don’t see there being an issue,” the Professor said, looking curious. “Why?”

“I’m being intentionally cruel to Claude and need to hide,” Lorenz reluctantly admitted. 

Ferdinand appeared  _ amused _ , and it seemed like he and the professor had a conversation with simply  _ looks _ before he spoke again: “The terrace is yours, and as long as you stay out of sight and quiet, no one will know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said.

“May I ask  _ why _ you’re being cruel?” Ferdinand asked as the Professor left them, heading back to the official audience chamber.

“I simply gave Claude his comeuppance for his behavior during the feast and want him to stew for a while.”

“And avoid his retribution,” Ferdinand said.

“I suppose. Although giving him the time and space to scheme might be unwise.”

Ferdinand shook his head,  _ obviously _ amused. “I’ll order for some tea to be brought up here. Don’t worry, I’ll retrieve it just in case Claude figures out where you are and manages to convince the servant to let him deliver it.”

“...he would do that, wouldn’t he? Thank you, Ferdinand.”

“Do not thank me so quickly,” Ferdinand said. “You two are one of the only things that Garreg Mach is talking about right now, and I doubt that whatever you pulled to make you fear Claude’s retribution has made you two any less prominent.”

“Yes, well. I suppose I should tell you what I did then, so at least one other person knows the true story.”

“Please do.”

“I was taking a bath at the bathhouse and Claude ‘coincidentally’ arrived while I was there. I asked him to let me wash him so I could practice the vocabulary for parts of the body in Almyran, he agreed, and I was...perhaps unnecessarily suggestive about it all.”

“Noted,” Ferdinand said, his eyebrows going up slightly at  _ unnecessarily suggestive _ . “All I ask is that you do not escalate to publicly having sex.”

Lorenz gaped. “Ferdinand! I’d  _ never _ \--”

Ferdinand held up his hands in a request for silence, and Lorenz obliged. “I know you wouldn’t, under  _ normal _ circumstances, but Claude is an exceptional person, and I can see you both getting carried away. So, please do keep any sexual intimacy to your borrowed rooms.”

_ I’m glad I never actually touched his penis while in the bathhouse, _ Lorenz thought distantly. “Of course.”

With that, Ferdinand, too, entered the main building, closing the door to the terrace quietly behind him.

_ And now I am alone with my thoughts and regrets, _ Lorenz groaned to himself as he stood up and wandered over to the edge of the terrace, looking out over Garreg Mach.  _ Lovely. _

“Ha! There you are!”

Lorenz looked up and barely kept himself from face-palming when he saw Claude lazily circling the terrace on the back of a borrowed wyvern. 

“Claude, what are you doing?” Lorenz asked. 

“Looking for you,” Claude responded with a cheeky grin. “Catch me!”

“Wait, Claude--!”

Lorenz did as ordered only because he would feel awful about letting Claude deliberately hit the ground, so ended up with an armful of Almyran king when Claude recklessly and stupidly jumped off the goddess-damned wyvern. Lorenz was strong enough to stay standing, even if his legs did feel a little weak after Claude looped his arms around Lorenz’s neck and gave his cheek a quick kiss. 

The wyvern, for its part, looked confused before flying away. 

“I hope it goes back to the stables and we’re not sent off to look for a renegade wyvern,” Lorenz semi-scolded.

Claude tugged on a lock of Lorenz’s hair playfully, then said, “The wyvern are all very well trained, and it’s much easier for them to obtain food by staying in the monastery than leaving. I’m sure the handlers will be confused, but everything should be okay.”

“ _ Should _ be.”

“Mmhm. Are you going to keep holding me like this?” Claude asked as he lightly twirled some of Lorenz’s hair around his pointer finger. “Because I don’t  _ mind _ ...”

Lorenz sighed and shifted to set Claude on his feet, and the two of them straightened to standing more-or-less in sync. “So, congratulations, you found me.”

“Oh, do I get a prize like when you found me?” Claude asked, sounding  _ far _ too excited for Lorenz’s sanity. 

“No,” Lorenz said firmly, and Claude looked adorably put-out. “We never agreed to a game, so there was nothing to win.”

“I still think that finding you when you were clearly deliberately hiding from me is worth  _ something _ ,” Claude insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I was not hiding from you,” Lorenz lied. “I truly had a meeting with the Professor, and they allowed me use of this space so I could plan the transfer of power to Marianne without fear of interruption or distractions.”

“Distracting, am I?” Claude said, leaning into Lorenz’s body. Lorenz hated how he reflexively embraced Claude when he did so, Lorenz’s arms loosely encircling Claude’s waist. 

“Yes,” Lorenz replied, trying and failing to suppress a blush. “Why were you looking for me in the first place?”

“Because you consensually molested me and it was wonderful and I wanted to thank you.”

“...what?”

“I really enjoyed myself, you know,” Claude said, resting against Lorenz’s body. “You never hurt me, I never felt like I was in danger, you touched me like I was, was--like I was crystal or something, liable to break if pressed too hard. You sound  _ delightful _ when devious, and every time you met my eyes, the only reason I didn’t kiss you was because I didn’t want to  _ interrupt _ what you were doing to me. I’d love to be your practice every day, so if you ever feel the need for more review, my body is available to you as a study guide.”

“Oh,” Lorenz said, his blush worsening. “I...well. I see. Thank you, I suppose. Since you’re here, perhaps you can help me strategize, as I won’t throw you off the third floor to get you to leave me alone.”

“I’m happy to help,” Claude said and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Lorenz’s ear. “Marianne is taking over control of the Alliance?”

“Yes,” Lorenz said and released Claude, gesturing that he follow to the table that remained set up after his lunch with the Professor. 

Claude, however, did not take a seat in a chair, but rather plunked himself in Lorenz’s lap once Lorenz was seated. There was a long moment of frustrated silence, that was eventually broken by Claude being unable to stifle a snicker. 

“You’re a menace,” Lorenz pseudo-scolded.

“Oh, you have  _ no  _ right to call me that after this morning,” Claude said cheerfully.

“ _ That _ was a response to you embarrassing me during the feast,” Lorenz replied primly. “Now, if you’re going to insist on staying, help me plan.”

For all that Lorenz felt like his legs were going numb, Claude  _ was _ at least  _ marginally  _ helpful in strategizing the handover of power. They were debating the best way to redirect correspondence to Marianne when the door to the terrace opened and Ferdinand stepped through, a tea tray in his hands. 

After a moment’s pause, he asked: “How did you get up here, Claude?”

“I flew,” Claude answered.

“He borrowed a wyvern and then jumped down,” Lorenz clarified drolly. 

Ferdinand was clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “I see. Now I at least understand better the reports of a riderless wyvern returning to the stables. I’ll make sure to communicate that there is nothing to worry about and we aren’t suddenly missing a student.”

“Oops,” Claude said, sounding utterly unapologetic. 

Ferdinand looked like he was going to say something, then simply shook his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he deposited the tea tray on the table. “Please return this to the kitchen when you’re finished.”

“Of course,” Lorenz said. Ferdinand nodded, then left, shaking his head in amusement as he did so. 

“Hey, Lorenz.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“No, you--”

“ _ Ahem _ .”

Lorenz sighed. “Of course you love me.”

“Better,” Claude said and pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s cheek. “Now, where were we? Right! Letters will be redirected to here from the Manse until word fully gets around that Marianne has taken over.”

“I think that would be best, if only because Garreg Mach is also a pseudo-halfway point between our territories and--stop playing with my hair.”

“But it’s so nice and soft,” Claude replied and continued to gently comb through the longer strands. “And I will stop playing with hair when  _ you _ stop tracing the stitching on my pants with your fingers. Your long, deft, strong,  _ teasing _ fingers.” 

Lorenz sighed disparagingly, but it was a struggle to not smirk. “Could you pour a cup of tea for me? You’re currently in a slightly better position to do that.”

“Sure,” Claude agreed, and did as requested--all while shifting on Lorenz’s lap in such a way that put pressure and stimulation on all the right places that made fighting down his body’s natural reaction  _ difficult. _

“Here you go,” Claude chirped and handed Lorenz the tea cup and saucer, which Lorenz took. It was peppermint-flavored black which, while not his favorite, was still a decently good tea for the afternoon, so he accepted it. However, it was harder than anticipated to maneuver his arms around Claude, and the man shifting on his lap  _ again _ , most likely ‘on accident,’ made Lorenz’s movement hitch slightly and had him spill some of the tea onto the saucer and left some lingering on his lips.

Lorenz froze when Claude leaned in and wiped the drops away with his thumb, then deliberately and pointedly licked the liquid off his finger, holding Lorenz’s gaze the entire time. Lorenz swallowed hard, his heart stuttering as his mouth perversely watered. 

_ I want to kiss him. Even after the events of this morning, I  _ still _ want to kiss him. I’m officially insane. _

“Claude,” he attempted to scold, but there was too much breathless neediness to the tone to be anything other than a plea for... _ something _ . 

“Yes?” Claude purred, leaning in closer. 

_ Oh, damn it all, _ Lorenz eventually decided when his mind and the  _ possessiveness _ that had awakened within him kept insisting that he just  _ kiss Claude. _ Still, Claude had always asked, so…

Lorenz pointedly placed the tea cup and saucer back on the table, then asked: “May I kiss you?”

Claude’s eyes lit up and he said, “You never need to ask. Please ambush me with kisses. I’d do it to you if I didn’t think you’d faint if I did.”

“I would not  _ faint _ ,” Lorenz muttered before closing the small distance to press his lips to Claude’s. 

He didn’t expect Claude to capture his lower lip in a gentle bite when he tried to pull away, a soft, almost  _ playful _ growl escaping Claude. It was  _ weirdly _ thrilling, and he could feel his face flush. He opened his mouth to speak, but Claude seemed to take that as an invitation instead, tilting Lorenz’s head slightly in order to kiss him  _ deeply _ .

_ I can’t believe I thought I knew what kissing was before, _ Lorenz thought distantly as he drowned in sensation, it feeling like every fiber of his being was electrified as he threaded his fingers through Claude’s luxuriously thick hair. Claude seemed intent on tasting him, and Lorenz responded to both the enthusiasm and curiosity with his own; he had never felt so... _ present _ in his body before. However, Claude shifting on his lap to straddle him (Lorenz) and make kissing him easier both made heat pool in his stomach and nudged the exceedingly violent and  _ greedy _ part of Lorenz that he struggled to distance himself from. The longer they kissed, the more Lorenz learned what kissing was  _ supposed _ to feel like, the louder the low, hot chant of  _ mine _ grew in his head. 

Claude had chosen him-- _ him _ ! He should have known better, should have been more cautious, should have  _ listened _ to Lorenz’s protests, but he had made the mistake of choosing him, and he was going to suffer for it. He’d pluck out Claude’s beautiful jade eyes so he couldn’t look at anyone else. He’d break his legs to keep him from leaving, break his spirit to keep him from even  _ considering _ it. He would become Claude’s  _ everything _ and the Almyran would learn to like the gilded cage Lorenz would build for him. Claude wouldn’t be a king, he’d simply belong to Lorenz, and that would be enough, would be all Lorenz allowed him to want or need.

Terror replaced the arousal and Lorenz felt light headed from the clashing emotions--he’d never do that to Claude, so why did it sound so  _ appealing _ ? Lorenz broke the kiss as gently and pointedly as he could and looked away from Claude, potent shame curling through him.

“Too fast?” Claude asked. “I’m sorry.” 

Lorenz swallowed hard then whispered, “Don’t apologize. It’s...I want to  _ possess _ you, Claude. That’s...dangerous.  _ This  _ is dangerous. You should have never chosen me. Never chosen a Gloucester.”

“Possess me?” Claude semi-repeated, sounding hesitantly curious.

“You chose me, so now you’re  _ mine _ ,” Lorenz said, hating the possessive growl that hitched onto the final word. “I want...I want to be your everything. I want to be your pole-star, your world. I want everything you are, body, mind, and soul, and I...a part of me is willing to tear you apart and rebuild you for my pleasure to ensure that. I don’t  _ really _ want that, I know it would kill you and I don’t want to change you and I’d never follow through, but there’s still a part of me deep in  _ here _ that insists that there is nothing wrong in breaking you if it benefits me. A Gloucester’s love  _ consumes _ . That’s why I can’t--I can’t say what you want me to say. Ever. Because that will be permission to my most base instincts and I...don’t want to hurt you.”

“You really think I’d just let you hurt me?” Claude asked, incredulous.

“No! Of course not. And I never would. But my family, my history, what I learned of ‘love’ is...apparently flawed and more than a little violent.”

Claude was silent for a moment before saying, “My mother told me that the first thing we think is what we were conditioned to believe; the second thing we think is what we  _ choose _ . So, while your first  _ instinct _ is to, ah,  _ possess _ , you course-correct because you know that is wrong, and I think the fact that you’re clearly bucking the trend established by your family for generations is impressive. But, conditioning is hard to undo. So, if at any point you start acting creepily possessive or whatnot, I’ll tell you bluntly so that you can reorient yourself. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Lorenz agreed. “I still think it would be best to stop this before it proceeds any farther.”

“Nope, that’s just fear talking,” Claude said. “I need you like you need tea, and I intended to savor the experience, both good and bad.”

“Why would you willfully set yourself up for pain?”

“Love isn’t like that.”

“Yes it is!”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“Inevitably!”

“Do you  _ want _ to hurt me?”

“ _ No _ .”

“So any pain you inflict will not be out of spite or malicious intent, but rather because the only love you’ve ever been exposed to has been, as  _ you _ said, flawed and violent.”

“But, why take that chance in the first place? Why open yourself up to being wounded when it would be so much safer to find some nice Almyran noblewoman who isn’t so badly warped?”

“Because I don’t want some nice Almyran noblewoman, I want  _ you _ , damage and all,” Claude said firmly. “Admittedly, I should have expected that calm upper waters hid turbulent depths. Everything I learn about you doesn’t make me dislike you, though, but love you more, because  _ look how far you’ve come. _ ”

Lorenz swallowed hard. “I don’t deserve your good regard.”

“You’re right, you don’t deserve my  _ good regard, _ ” Claude said before continuing: “You deserve my love.”

“But, what if I can’t ever give you in return what you’re giving me?”

“I don’t think that you’re not  _ capable _ of it, I just think that you don’t understand what it  _ means _ to love someone without conditions or pain. But, you’re smart. You’ll learn, and I’ll get to reap the benefits. Because I really do think that you have a  _ lot _ to give, you just...your first attempts at poetry were gods-awful, right?”

“Of course,” Lorenz admitted. “I had no clue about rhyme schemes or rhythm or other poetic techniques.”

“This is like that,” Claude said. “Your first attempts at love will be sloppy, haphazard, and instinctual. But, over time, as you get used to the feeling, you’ll get better at learning how to express it. You’ll learn the rhyme and rhythm of love.”

“But...are you really willing to wait for me to learn?”

“Yes,” Claude said firmly and pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s cheek. “Because the wait will be worth it.”

Lorenz wasn’t sure what the emotion that lodged itself in his chest was. He felt like he was dying, somehow, but it was a relief? 

“Can I expect love poems?” Claude asked, seemingly cautiously excited.

Lorenz felt his face flush, and he rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. “I...may have written poetry about you before.”

“You did?” Claude said, intrigued. “May I see it?’

“Oh, heavens no!” Lorenz said. 

“Why? Is it uncomplimentary?”

“No, not entirely....”

“You’ve  _ already _ written love poems about me?” Claude guessed.

“I wouldn’t call them  _ love poems _ ,” Lorenz hedged. “You were an obsession when we were in school together. I couldn’t stop  _ thinking _ about you, so I had to at least write something down to exorcise the emotions I couldn’t process.”

Claude looked perversely delighted at the news. “You have to let me read them.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. Please?”

“No,” Lorenz said firmly.  _ I’m pretty sure some are more sexually charged than I’d like to admit. _

Claude looked pathetically dejected and gave him the most  _ mournful _ look that made Lorenz feel weirdly guilty.

“None of them are here,” Lorenz grumbled. “They’re all in notebooks in my private library at the manse.”  _ Under lock and key and cipher to keep inquisitive eyes at bay. _

“So I’ll get the chance to read them while I’m there?”

“Perhaps,” Lorenz hedged.

Claude grinned. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Lorenz answered, and quickly had to cling to Claude to remember which way was up from how his head spun from the  _ passion _ in Claude’s kiss.

“There’s still work to do,” Lorenz panted when Claude finally let him go. “And please stay in your own room tonight. I don’t think my heart could handle you being in bed with me.”

“Oh?” 

“Don’t give me that coy  _ oh _ ,” Lorenz scolded. 

“Hey, just because  _ I _ promised to keep my hands above your waist doesn’t mean you have to do the same to me if the mood strikes you.”

“Claude! I’d  _ never _ take such liberties.”

“But I  _ want _ you to take them. Take all the liberties you desire.”

“ _ Claude _ ,” Lorenz groaned. “No. Now, get off my lap. My thighs are going numb and I do want to have a plan in place that I can present to Marianne and Hilda.”

“Marianne  _ and  _ Hilda?”

“Marianne said she would likely rely on Hilda for support, so I feel that looping her into the conversation would be prudent.”

“Makes sense,” Claude said and reluctantly stood. “You were more comfortable than I anticipated.”

“You have plenty of padding,” Lorenz commented drolly. 

“Did you just say I have a nice ass?”

“No.”

Claude chuckled and pulled a chair over so he was sitting beside Lorenz. “Sure. So, what else do we need in place for you to feel comfortable going home with me?”

Lorenz gave Claude a dry look; Claude looked perfectly unrepentant.

“Mind out of gutter, and do try to focus,” Lorenz said and gently tapped Claude’s nose with the tip of his finger, which made Claude rub it and badly suppress a snicker. 

“I’ll  _ try _ ,” Claude said. “But you make it very hard.”

“No, I just make  _ you  _ hard,” Lorenz said before he could stop himself, and Claude burst out laughing as Lorenz felt his face flush in mortification.

“Oh, no, please, don’t stop,” Claude said, grinning stupidly. “I love hearing you make bold innuendos. Be ballsy about flirting with me. I like how it feels.”

“It’s not how  _ respectable _ nobles behave,” Lorenz grumbled and straightened his vest in discomfort. “Anyway.”

It felt...almost natural, having Claude at his side, and he found himself not minding the occasional stray touch from Claude, who generally seemed to be having a hard time with keeping his hands to himself. The touches never strayed anywhere inappropriate, but it made Lorenz feel...delicate, almost. Precious. Something to be  _ admired _ rather than avoided. He caught himself leaning into the touches more than once and flushed in embarrassed shame each time, but there was never a look of, of...triumph from Claude whenever that happened. Instead, he’d only get the softest of smiles and usually a murmured ‘I love you’ in spite of whatever Claude may have been saying beforehand. It was unbearable.

_ I have to make him hate me again, I can’t tolerate this, _ Lorenz thought, pretty sure he had a permanent blush staining his cheeks.  _ He deserves someone who can love him like he needs, who can tend to his heart without crushing it to a pulp in a vice-grip. _

“Lorenz, you’ve stopped breathing again.”

_ So that’s why I’m feeling a bit dizzy, _ Lorenz thought absently as he took a few deep breaths. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Claude asked.

“Stop doing that,” Lorenz said. “Stop saying I love you. Stop being  _ nice _ . Because if you keep complimenting me and saying such wonderful things, I won’t be able to survive when you finally come to your senses and realize how awful I am for you and leave me for someone better.”

“But there isn’t anyone better.”

“There must be.”

“There isn’t.”

“How do you know that? Maybe you just, just haven’t met them yet.”

Claude reached out and took one of Lorenz’s hands in his, gently running his thumbs along the bridge of his (Lorenz’s) knuckles. “Lorenz.”

“Yes?”

“Why is it different with me?” Claude asked, sounding a little sad. “When you were flirting with the girls at the feast, you seemed perfectly poised and absolutely sure of yourself. I believe you when you told me that you would respond to a confession with ‘I’m honored’, and probably give them a winning smile that would make their heart flutter. With me, though, you swing between scared and atrociously unabashed. Your body says  _ I want this _ while your eyes are screaming in terror. Why? Some of the stories you’ve told me explain things to an extent, but...if it really...if me loving you really scares you that much...” Claude sighed, the sound and his expression both betraying his frustration.

Lorenz was silent for a long moment before saying, “For as long as I can remember, I was told no one  _ could _ love me. Love is a lie, a mirage, a ruse whose end goal is the control and domination of another person. It is not beautiful or gentle or genuine, and even if it was, I would never be worthy of it.”

“That’s not--”

Lorenz reached out and pressed the fingers of his free hand against Claude’s lips to keep him quiet. “Flirting is a game that can be won and lost, and the prize is control of that person’s emotions. It’s meant to determine if someone is a suitable partner because it’s easy to tell the sincerely infatuated from another who knows flirting and love are both merely pretty lies. I was told the ones who knew how to play the game would make the worthy spouse because they would know what power is. Anyone foolish enough to get carried away by their emotions, particularly by something as fickle and false as  _ love, _ would never survive in Alliance politics.”

Lorenz let his hand fall. “So when you say things like I  _ deserve _ love, I don’t...I don’t know what that means, Claude. Do I deserve to be manipulated? Or is it, I deserve to have power over another? When you say you love me, does that mean you submit to me and my will? I walk...I walk on a foundation of broken bodies and hearts and I don’t want to add your corpse to the mass grave created by my family’s  _ affections.  _ I worry that, if you push me too much, I might--”

“Rape me?” 

Lorenz flinched. “Among other things, yes.”

“You never would.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I’m an outsider, so I can see some things a little clearer than you can,” Claude said with a wry smile. “If you truly were as monstrous as you think you are, you would never have accepted the rejection of the countless girls you attempted to get to have meals with you while we were here as students. Your persistence would have turned into stalking, then into physical coercion when they still refused. But, when people complained to the Professor, you  _ did _ eventually relent and there were  _ never _ any rumors of you becoming violent with anyone who rejected you. Do you think your father, your ancestors, would have taken  _ no _ as an answer?”

Lorenz shook his head slowly. “‘Claim that which you desire.’”

“Yeah, thought so,” Claude said. He took a breath to speak, paused, looked exceedingly thoughtful, and said, “Claim what you  _ desire _ .”

“It’s a paraphrasing of an unofficial House motto.”

“And you said you want to possess me,” Claude murmured, looking very intently at Lorenz’s still-captive hand. “You want to  _ claim _ me. You...you desire me. And that’s what has you so scared!”

“Um.”

“Based upon everything you did during our time in school, during the war, and in the reconstruction effort, you’ve never claimed anything for yourself, you’ve done everything for the good of Fodlan and her people. You’ve avoided wanting things because...because whenever your family wants things, someone or something else suffers for that desire. So, you’re afraid that in wanting me, desiring me, you’ll make me suffer, too, and you don’t...you don’t want to see me suffer.”

“Yes!” Lorenz said, relieved that Claude seemed to be finally  _ understanding _ . Thus, he was endlessly confused when Claude brought Lorenz’s hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Claude? You...surely you see that we can’t continue to water whatever is growing between us, right? It should be left to wither.”

Claude shook his head and held Lorenz’s hand close to his heart. “No, absolutely not. I want to help you to not fear your desire.”

“But I might end up seriously hurting you!”

“You already said you’d rein yourself in if I call you out on being creepy and possessive,” Claude pointed out. “Because I can tell you for  _ sure _ that underneath all the possessiveness and the desire to consume and whatnot is the desire to love deeply and completely--you just don’t know how to express it in a healthy way.”

Claude seemed  _ inordinately _ pleased with himself, while Lorenz found himself at a loss. “You’re insane.”

“Only about you.”

“Why are you so intent on putting yourself in harm’s way? I am trying to warn you away, to tell you that I will bring nothing but  _ misery _ to your life, so why--”

“Lorenz.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“I love you and you’re not going to scare me off.”

“Why?!”

“I love you because you’re an amazing man and you’re not going to scare me off because I’m stubborn and know that all of your attempts come from the fact that you’re starved for love, so being on the receiving end of it is overwhelming and uncomfortable and weird and you hate it as much as you crave it. But...do you think you can trust me? To not die on you? To show you a new, different,  _ better _ way of expressing and experiencing love? Just...be open to receiving my love until we leave Garreg Mach for Gloucester lands. Don’t try to analyze it, don’t try to frame it in how you understand it based upon your family history, just...experience it. Don’t even  _ think _ about whether or not you should reciprocate it. Just...just let me love you openly and without reservation for a few days, and then you can decide if you like what love  _ actually _ is, and if you’re willing to try and overturn everything you’ve been taught. I’m willing to take on that war, but  _ you _ need to be willing and committed to the fight for your freedom from the tyranny of your past as well. I will be with you every step of the way if you choose to try.”

Lorenz stared at him for a  _ long _ moment before swallowing around a lump in his throat and asking, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you trying so hard? I told you--I told you something awful, something that I was informed would drive anyone away because of how weak and ineffective I was, that no one would want me if they knew, but you...you keep chasing me and finding me. Why?”

“Because your family turned your very first sexual encounter into something monstrous. Only  _ scum _ would give you the kind of choice your father did. Rape a person you love or he’ll kill her? Yeah, no, that’s...that’s sociopathic. Everything about that situation feels  _ contrived _ and deliberate--if you didn’t come across people your age normally, why would one suddenly be assigned to you except as a test or a trap? Of course someone showing you some consideration when you receive none otherwise would provoke feelings of love and affection within you. Your parents used her in an attempt to break you so they could glue you back into the form  _ they _ wanted. You were probably becoming too  _ opinionated _ or free-thinking, they needed a way to shatter you.”

“They wouldn’t--”

“Wouldn’t they? You told me that a part of you wants to break and remold me for your pleasure. Where do you think you learned to want that from?”

Lorenz’s shoulder dropped slightly. “And to think you’ve barely scratched the surface. Are you  _ sure _ you want to keep chasing after me? Is it worth standing up each time I push you away?”

“You barely pushed hard enough for me to even stumble in my pursuit of you,” Claude said with a wry smile. “It’s more, yes, I will be here each time to pick you up and dust you off when you fall over yourself whenever I unintentionally hit a trauma. And I apologize in advance for each time I do, since I know I will, and that makes me sad.”

Lorenz sighed heavily. “There’s no dissuading you from trying, is there?”

“I mean, you can  _ try _ , but there are better things you could apply your time and energy to.”

“Then...what war of  _ yours _ do you want me to fight in?”

“Pardon?”

“It isn’t fair for you to fight on my behalf without my doing the same for you. What war has worn you down so far that you’re not sure it’s worth fighting anymore? Where do you need reinforcements?”

Claude blinked, clearly surprised by the offer, and tilted his head rather adorably as he considered Lorenz’s offer. 

“I remember what you said a few days ago...about being called a half-demon and a blight upon the royal line,” Lorenz said slowly. “You would not remember those insults unless they hurt. I’m sure that, in spite of your parents trying to protect you and caring for you, those were not the only barbs that made you feel subhuman all because you weren’t full-blooded Almyran. Maybe I can...maybe I can help somehow?”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“What? Absolutely not. Who would be afraid of  _ you _ ?”

Claude actually laughed, which prompted a shaky smile from Lorenz. 

“You’d be surprised. Because I have Fodlanese demon-blood, I know there are quite a few people amongst the tribal leaders who are scared I might suck out their soul during the night and use it to power the magic I don’t have. They perform all sorts of rituals meant to prevent me from doing just that both before and after I visit.”

Lorenz scoffed. “That’s just nonsense. You know what? Let me teach you some magic. You have Riegan blood  _ and _ a Crest, so I know you can use it with the right training.”

“You’d deliberately make it easier for me to intimidate people and play to their fears?”

“Of course. There are some people who only respond to intimidation, and it would allow you to access some more of your heritage besides your Crest. Yes. I will teach you magic.”

“Do I get a say in that?”

“...of course. I’ll teach you only if you want me to teach you. An unwilling student will deliberately not learn.”

Claude paused, then chuckled. “It’s so weird, but the thought of using magic makes me  _ nervous _ . Perhaps I  _ have _ absorbed some of the superstitious fear myself. Fine. I’ll learn magic from you, and claim a little more of my Fodlanese heritage...and strength. I’ll need you by my side, though, to stand strong in the face of advisors and whatnot claiming that I’ve forsaken Almyra by learning magic.”

“You serve her better by having access to  _ all _ your available skills,” Lorenz pointed out. “A leader who has an ability or abilities that the majority of the population does not can leverage them for both the betterment of his people  _ and _ in their defense.”

“Or use it to enact tyranny.”

“You would have to change at the core of your being in order to do that.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.”

“It is the truth. You are a fair and just person, for all that you can be frustratingly conniving and sneaky.”

Claude chuckled and shook his head, although for what reason, Lorenz wasn’t sure. “Can we exchange that for lance practice? I  _ hate _ lances.”

“Yes, we can do magic instead of lances.”

“Oh thank the gods. No more dying of innuendo.”

“Claude,” Lorenz sighed, the sound...oddly affectionate. 

The bell chimed the dinner hour, startling Lorenz. “I...did not think it was that late.”

“Between moments of you freaking out over me loving you, we actually made significant progress in plotting out Marianne’s takeover of the former-Alliance territories,” Claude said. “Do you want me to be there for that conversation?”

“I wouldn't mind your insight and input,” Lorenz said and stood, Claude standing as well. 

“I will be happy to assist,” Claude said. After a moment’s thought, he held out his hand to Lorenz. It took an  _ embarrassingly _ long moment for Lorenz to process that Claude wanted to hold his hand just to  _ hold his hand _ and not because he was offering help or the like. 

_ He likes touching me. He shows his affection for me by touch, _ Lorenz thought.  _ I...I think I agreed to experience his love, didn’t I? And this is one way he shows it. _

Lorenz took Claude’s hand and carefully intertwined their fingers, and he would have thought that Claude had just won the lottery or something from how his entire expression lit up. Claude gave Lorenz’s fingers a reassuring squeeze and started off towards the dining hall, Lorenz falling into step with him easily, their intertwined hands between them.

\----

As a prize for making it all the way through the chapter, here is a NSFW picture I had commissioned for the bathhouse scene in this chapter:  [ https://d2pqhom6oey9wx.cloudfront.net/img_original/15615350315fc6ebb981b80.jpg ](https://d2pqhom6oey9wx.cloudfront.net/img_original/15615350315fc6ebb981b80.jpg)

  
Additionally, if you are interested in learning more about the artist, here is his twitter:  [ http://www.twitter.com/boisteruse ](http://www.twitter.com/boisteruse)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a doozy of a chapter, have a fluffy one. There's a really non-explicit masturbation scene in this chapter, so I suppose that deserves a warning though. 
> 
> As always, a huge 'thank you' to everyone who read, comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc. I like knowing other people enjoy my work.
> 
> And finally, FE:3H still does not belong to me.

Lorenz was woken by gentle, chaste, but insistent kisses, and opened his eyes to find Claude sharing his pillow, looking endlessly pleased with himself. 

“Did you pick the lock  _ again _ ?” Lorenz mumbled and rubbed his eyes free of sleep. 

“Mmhm,” Claude confessed, unashamed. “You woke up enough to growl and grumble disgruntled nonsense at me and promptly pulled me close when I got under the covers and fell right back to sleep.”

“What’s your excuse this time?”

“I had a nightmare and wanted you to hold me to make me less afraid,” Claude said before pressing another quick, chaste kiss to Lorenz’s lips. “It worked. I felt safe all night long in your arms.”

Lorenz sighed softly, then leaned in and caught Claude in a languid, lingering kiss. There was no...no  _ urgency _ to the contact, but rather a kind of begrudging acceptance that Claude would probably break into his room if he didn’t invite him in henceforth and come up with new and inventive excuses each time. 

“So, I have another game I want to play with you,” Claude said once the kiss finally broke, his face slightly flushed with pleasure. 

“Oh? What is it this time?”

“I want to set up a scavenger hunt for you.”

“And what does that entail?”

“Well, at the end of a scavenger hunt is a prize,” Claude said. “I’m going to hide clues and puzzles and riddles around the monastery and you’re going to follow them like a treasure map until you get to the end and find the prize. Don’t worry, none of them will be hard, since I  _ do _ want you to win.”

“So, I follow clues, solve riddles, and eventually win a prize,” Lorenz paraphrased. “Can we just do the riddles without having to actually go and find the clues?” 

_ Or skip straight to the prize, _ Lorenz thought as he yawned.

Lorenz’s traitor-mind shoved an image of Claude wearing nothing but a strategically-placed bow as a  _ prize _ , and he discarded the image with vicious single-mindedness even as he felt his face heat. No, he did  _ not _ want that.

“No, that’s the fun of it. It’s like a mystery novel in real life!” Claude said, his voice breaking in on Lorenz’s thoughts.

“How long will you need to set it up?” Lorenz asked, trying to shake his embarrassment.

“Probably just an hour or two,” Claude said. “Have to make sure Cyril and the other groundskeepers know not to move my clues, recruit a few people to assist, and so on. If you take Shadow out on the practice trail and take your time about it, I’ll probably be ready by the time you come back.”

Lorenz sighed. “Fine.”

“I should get start--”

Lorenz dragged Claude back down when he tried to leave and said, “No. I’m not ready to get up yet, so you’re not leaving.”

Claude held up his hands in mock surrender, a small smile playing on his face. “Alright, I won’t leave yet.”

“Good,” Lorenz said and tugged him into another kiss. He had decided he liked Claude’s kisses and kissing Claude, so when Claude lightly licked his (Lorenz’s) lips, Lorenz yielded to the request and allowed Claude to deepen the kiss.

It still felt a little strange, having someone else’s tongue in his mouth, but it also left him light-headed and tingling and giddy, which outweighed the wetness and awkwardness significantly. However, Claude was shirtless, which meant there were more places available for kissing, and a part of Lorenz was curious as to why romantic couples in books and whatnot kissed other places on their partner’s body. So, when they broke apart to better catch their breaths, Lorenz nudged Claude onto his back, then left a light trail of kisses along Claude’s cheek and jawline, stopping at the junction of jaw and neck and lingering there, flicking his tongue out to taste Claude’s skin.

He was not expecting Claude to groan with delight and tilt his head just enough to expose the rest of his neck. Lorenz wasn’t always good at catching cues, but that was a hard one to miss, so he trailed kisses down the curve of Claude’s neck to pause and leave a much wetter kiss in the hollow of Claude’s throat, and he could  _ feel _ Claude moan something in Almyran by the vibration against his lips, Claude’s fingers running through his (Lorenz’s) hair. 

Strangely, the part of him that wanted to  _ consume _ Claude was still, the current of whispers of  _ mine _ flowing in lazy, soft eddies around him, content in having Claude beneath him and pliant to his kisses. 

Lorenz slowly worked up the other side of Claude’s neck, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he shifted just enough to swirl his tongue around Claude’s earring, gently biting down and tugging on both the flesh and metal. There was the slightest  _ tingle _ against his tongue from the earring, which Lorenz distantly guessed was from the magic that helped detect poisons, but that was a secondary concern to Claude’s gasp and whine of  _ desire _ . Claude insistently tugged at Lorenz’s hair, making Lorenz pull away from teasing Claude’s ear and guided him instead into a  _ passionate _ kiss that left Lorenz’s head spinning. 

When the kiss broke, Claude panted, “Can I ask a favor?”

“Depends on he favor,” Lorenz responded, equally breathless.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could you...could you maybe hold me while I touch myself?”

“Claude--” Lorenz started, his face heating.

“Just hold. Nothing else. You don’t have to kiss me or caress me or anything, I just want to feel your presence, feel your arms around me, and I won’t try to touch you back or anything. I mean, you can touch me if you want to, but you don’t have to. You also don’t have to watch, you can keep your eyes closed if it’s too embarrassing for you. Hold me like two nights ago, my back to your chest, I just need my hands free.”

Lorenz swallowed hard. He remembered the lectures and the punishments that came from the few times he had made the mistake of exploring his own body for pleasure’s sake, but Claude didn’t seem afraid or ashamed of doing that, even if a  _ large _ part of Lorenz assured him it was pitiful and beneath a king to cave to such base desires. Simultaneously, the part that wanted to claim and mark Claude as belonging to him (Lorenz) was almost howling in delight at the thought of holding Claude while he pleasured himself to Lorenz’s mere  _ presence. _ It was one step closer to making Claude  _ his _ .

“Fine,” Lorenz heard himself say.

Initially, Lorenz positioned them how Claude had requested--Claude on his side and pressed firmly along all of Lorenz’s front--but Lorenz couldn’t see how the position would be  _ comfortable. _

“Here, this would be easier, right?” Lorenz asked after rolling just enough so Claude was lying on top of him, Claude’s back to Lorenz’s chest, them facing the ceiling rather than the wall. It took a bit of adjusting to settle and stabilize Claude, their legs intertwining to provide some added support, and he could feel the heat of Claude’s blush. 

“This’ll...this’ll work, yeah,” Claude said. “You’re surprisingly comfortable.”

“You said that about sitting on me, too.”

A strangled moan escaped Claude before he said, “Please don’t tease me.”

“Tease you?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Claude said. “Thank you for agreeing to this, by the way.”

“I don’t understand why you  _ want _ to touch yourself, but...I like having you here and you’re not making  _ me  _ do anything, so…”

Claude hummed in acknowledgement as he squirmed out of his underwear, then shivered as he began to stroke himself.

It was impossible for Lorenz to stay still himself once Claude began to masturbate in earnest, since the scent of Claude’s arousal made Lorenz’s stomach roil and flashes of inexplicable panic that were whiffs of struggling, decomposing corpses of memories he had desperately and forcibly interred occasionally flushed through him, so he needed  _ something _ to distract himself. After a moment’s hesitation, he let his fingers trail along the curves of musculature of Claude’s torso, followed lines of scars, gently tangled and plucked at Claude’s body hair, and even such a simple thing made Claude voice a happy moan. However, Lorenz earned a full-body shiver from Claude when he (Lorenz) passed the pads of his thumbs over Claude’s nipples. 

“Do that again?” Claude asked as Lorenz heard his strokes increase in intensity. “ _ Please _ .”

It was interesting, discovering that pinching brought forth a different reaction than rubbing in circles, which was also different from running his fingers in straight lines. There was a slight difference in sensitivity between Claude’s nipples, and playing with them together brought the most marked responses. Claude had slid back slightly due to his squirming so his head was resting on Lorenz’s shoulder, and his breathing was coming short and fast, his vocalizations of pleasure and praise, his panted directions on how to  _ touch _ , all breathless whispers in Lorenz’s ear.

An insistent and scandalized part of Lorenz asserted that he shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong to encourage such deviance, and that  _ he _ was disgusting for abetting such trashy behavior. However, the possessive part was curling in pleasure around how Claude was reacting, how Lorenz’s actions were affecting Claude, and the quiet susurrus of  _ mine _ had become a constant, low snarl. If Claude liked  _ this _ , enjoyed his touches and kisses, it would only get easier in time to lure Claude into captivity, into becoming his and his alone. Claude  _ would _ belong to him.

_ “Sex is a tool, my son, nothing more.” _

That snippet of memory caused a rather potent spike of fear, which caused him to pinch just a  _ bit _ too hard, which nevertheless seemed to be the last bit of stimulation Claude needed, as the scent of his arousal swelled as he came, shuddering as he breathed Lorenz’s name. 

Lorenz wasn’t sure if he felt embarrassed, ashamed, terrified, or triumphant, and the clash of emotions and lingering scent of cum left him feeling like he was going to vomit. He swallowed down the nausea and closed his eyes, focusing on keeping his breathing even and steady. To his bemusement, he found himself matching Claude’s breathing, and slowly they both settled. 

“I’m really not squishing you?” Claude asked, sounding rather content.

“No,” Lorenz said and moved his hands to rest on Claude’s abdomen instead of his chest, only to flinch and pull his hand away when it came into contact with something lukewarm and sticky.

Claude  _ giggled _ , then ended up laughing as Lorenz grumbled and wiped the cum off of his hand and onto the bedsheet. It would get washed anyway after he left. 

“Sorry,” Claude said. “I should get cleaned up and started on your scavenger hunt.”

Lorenz was reluctant to let Claude go--he enjoyed holding him immensely--but the day had to begin  _ eventually _ . “Very well.”

Lorenz released Claude, who slid off his body and into sitting, then standing. Claude stretched, the morning light tracing his musculature, before he looked down at Lorenz, warmth and affection in his eyes and smile, a declaration of love unspoken but very much present. “I  _ did _ say you didn’t have to touch me.”

“It felt weird merely lying there, so…” Lorenz reluctantly admitted as he pushed himself up to sitting.

“Well, I’m certainly not complaining,” Claude said with a lop-sided grin, but the expression quickly faded. “But, I did notice that you were panic-breathing--or, not-breathing--a bit. Can you tell me why?”

“Masturbation is wrong, shameful, deviant. Pleasure for pleasure’s sake is wasteful, almost immoral,” Lorenz said, not looking at Claude as he traced the faint scars that cut across his palms. “Sex is for either procreation or punishment. It’s a tool, not...I feel almost  _ ashamed _ that I helped you achieve orgasm. That was wrong of me to do.”

“No, it really wasn’t--”

“I didn’t get these scars from sword practice,” Lorenz interrupted and showed Claude his hands. “When I was young, I made the mistake of being curious about my body and the pleasure it could feel, and my mother caught me. She brought me to my father and made me confess my weakness, and he punished me for my lack of discipline.”

“Lorenz,” Claude said, his voice low and soft and  _ sad _ as he covered Lorenz’s hands with his own, intertwining their fingers. “I can’t tell you enough that you were done a  _ huge _ amount of harm by your family, and that I’m continually astonished that you turned out even halfway decent the more I learn about your childhood.”

“Different parenting techniques are needed for different children,” Lorenz said with a dismissive shrug. 

“No, it’s not--” Claude sighed. “Not an argument worth having now. Just know that you did nothing wrong, nothing shameful. Pleasure isn’t bad or immoral, and…” Claude shook his head slowly. “Okay.  _ Sex _ is about punishment and procreation.  _ Making love _ is about connection and pleasure and affection. So, you’re going to use that term now, got it?”

“What?”

“Whenever  _ we  _ discuss physical intimacy, you can use the word  _ sex _ when you’re referencing what your parents and family brought you up to believe, but whenever we’re talking above a sexual encounter between consenting, loving adults, we’re going to use  _ make love _ instead.”

“But that sounds so...juvenile?”

“Perhaps, but it’s a better way to describe how  _ I _ view sexual intimacy between people who are, uh---who are  _ involved _ .  _ Making love _ isn’t about power or asserting dominance or taking something, it’s about co-creation and connection and sharing. So,  _ having sex _ is when you talk about your family’s view of sexual intimacy, but  _ I _ will be using  _ making love _ when talking about sexual intimacy, and want you to start using that phrase, too, okay?”

_ It sounds so stupid, but I don’t see there being any harm? _ Lorenz thought before nodding slowly. “Very well.”

“Wonderful,” Claude said and leaned down to give Lorenz a soft, lingering kiss. “Thank you.”

“It’s literally nothing.”

“No, it’s a start,” Claude said. “Now, I’m going to get myself cleaned up and start setting up the scavenger hunt. Just...wait until I leave to leave yourself, okay?”

“Fine,” Lorenz said and stretched back out on the borrowed bed. “Knock on my door when you leave to start your preparations around the monastery, and I’ll head out to put Shadow through his paces.”

“Will do,” Claude replied as his eyes slid down Lorenz’s body. “Gods, Lorenz, you’re gorgeous.”

“Go away,” Lorenz grumbled, feeling his face heat.

Claude chuckled and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

To Lorenz’s confused relief, the shame he expected to pounce on him once he was left alone never came; he figured it was because the possessive creature in his chest that was lolling indolently over the knowledge that Claude had orgasmed to  _ him _ had somehow swallowed it down, protests about how dirty and disgusting he was drowned out by a low, pleased thrum of  _ mine _ . 

_ I don’t understand his insistence over the using  _ make love  _ to describe sex, _ Lorenz thought as he stretched, his fingers and toes making contact with the headboard and foot of the bed respectively as he did so.  _ Who else could I possibly talk to about this and not die of embarrassment? I could always see if Ferdinand has some free time. He  _ was _ talking about how being physically intimate with Claude could lead to pleasure and connection, so I’m sure he’ll have insight on this  _ make love _ nonsense. _

Lorenz sighed heavily, then forced himself standing.  _ He’s such a weird man sometimes. Scavenger hunt? What’s next? _

He hated that the ‘what next?’ was actually mildly  _ exciting _ . He was looking forward to discovering what else Claude was scheming, and that was a strange and uncomfortable sensation. Claude’s scheming was generally  _ annoying _ . 

_ There’s a prize involved, _ Lorenz eventually decided as he washed his hands and face.  _ This particular scheme is a competition, and I am...fairly competitive in general. I’m meant to win, so I doubt it will be too challenging, but, nevertheless… _

Lorenz was brushing the remaining tangles out of his hair when there was a brisk knock at the door. 

“Coming,” Lorenz called, put the brush down, and answered the door; unsurprisingly, it was Claude on the other side, sporting a rather stupid grin. 

“I’ll escort you to the stables and leave the first clue there once you leave,” Claude said and offered his arm. After a moment’s internal struggle, Lorenz decided walking arm-in-arm was no worse than hand-in-hand, so linked his arm with Claude’s. There was an odd delight in how something so  _ simple _ could cause Claude such obvious pleasure, if how his expression softened was any indication. 

“Is there a time limit on the scavenger hunt?” Lorenz asked. “I have a tea scheduled with Lysithea today and need to organize a meeting between us, Hilda, and Marianne to discuss handover of Alliance power.”

“I guess you have all day,” Claude said after a moment’s thought. “I’m not going to leave anything that will spoil quickly or whatnot, but I doubt I’ll be able to convince the staff to play along for a second day.”

“Then I will aim to complete the scavenger hunt by the time I take tea with Lysithea,” Lorenz said. “Speaking of Lysithea... _ was _ it Cyril’s comment to you that made you act the way you did at the feast?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I spoke with Mercedes and she mentioned that you were moved to action by something Cyril said, and when I asked Cyril, he told me what he said in Almyran, likely assuming I wouldn’t understand. I didn’t, not entirely, but caught enough to piece together that he thought you shouldn’t allow people to flirt with me.”

Claude sighed. “I’d been fighting against jealousy for the entire feast, he just...someone else pointing it out made something that was grating into intolerable. You more than got me back for embarrassing you, though!”

“Come, now, you  _ enjoyed _ my retribution.”

“Hell yeah I did,” Claude agreed. “Up to the point where you left me  _ hanging _ , when you had previously said you didn’t want to leave anything  _ unfinished _ . Memories of how you looked and sounded just pounce on me randomly anymore, and I am exceedingly glad my pants are baggy because I do not need it to be general knowledge how often I get hard as a result of memories of you.”

Lorenz coughed in pleased embarrassment, his face warming.  _ I affect him that strongly? _ “I am not going to apologize.”

“Nor do I want you to!” Claude said with a wry smile that gained a salacious edge to it. “And I am always up for more hands on practice. Your pronunciation still isn’t perfect, you know.”

Lorenz quirked an eyebrow and hated that his eyes were drawn to Claude’s crotch; the man caught his gaze and burst out laughing, leaning into Lorenz’s side.

“ _ Lorenz _ ,” Claude chided.

“You are a bad influence,” Lorenz said primly, his face heating.

“Oh, is that so?” Claude chuckled.

Claude only let go once they reached the stables so Lorenz could greet Shadow; however, before Lorenz could provide him with a sugar cube, Claude had produced one. Shadow, never one to turn down the treat, quickly took it from Claude’s hand.

“Are you bribing my stallion now to get him to approve of you?”

“He’s what could be called closest to being a true friend of yours, so I’d rather be on his good side,” Claude said with a cocked smile. Once Lorenz had finished saddling and preparing Shadow, Claude stepped in and kept Lorenz from mounting up, tugging him into a gentle, chaste, lingering kiss. “I’ll see you when you’re finished the hunt,” Claude said when he pulled back.

“Right,” Lorenz said, his face flushing hot. He mounted Shadow, then guided him out of the stall.

_ Blow Claude a kiss! _ Urged the  _ very _ unhelpful part of Lorenz, and he ignored it in favor of just waving a temporary farewell, Claude  _ beaming _ meanwhile. Claude’s good mood buoyed Lorenz until he exited Garreg Mach proper, since that was when he started to inexplicably  _ miss _ the man.

_ What if he regrets what you did? What if he changes his mind about you, now that he knows how easily you cave to your own base instincts? _ Lorenz’s insecurities and upbringing whispered as they started the course. _ It was wrong for you to touch him, wrong to enjoy it. His affection for you will fade, for certain. It’s only a matter of time. You’re not meant for softer things. _

Lorenz’s breath caught and he nudged Shadow faster. However, Lorenz found, again, that it was impossible to outrun his thoughts, even when using such a fleet-footed steed as Shadow. Uncertainty spiraled into worry, which morphed into anxiety, then dread. 

_ No, Claude...no one would  _ willingly _ choose to be attracted to me, _ Lorenz thought as they vaulted over a pit trap. _ I can assume that he is sincere in his affection for me because it isn’t something that can be forced or faked? So, he isn’t...he isn’t lying traps for me. He probably is leaving simple clues and puzzles. He wouldn’t be so malicious as to do such a strong about-face after...after this morning.  _

Lorenz had a vicious headache by the time he returned from running the trail, while Shadow was exceedingly chipper. When they arrived at Shadow’s temporary stall, it was to find a single rose with a piece of paper wrapped around it waiting for him. “Think that’s my first clue?” Lorenz asked Shadow as he guided them in. Shadow, for his part, seemed unimpressed. 

Lorenz dismounted and took his time caring for Shadow before picking up the rose and unwrapping the piece of paper from around it, anticipation and trepidation warring in his stomach. On one side were a few words in Almyran, on the other was a phrase in Fodlanese.

‘The next clue is where this one came from. Keep the papers.’

_ To the greenhouse, then, _ Lorenz thought, relieved that there didn’t seem to be anything  _ suspect _ about the clue.  _ I hope all of the clues are as easy as this one. _

Lorenz pocketed the paper, trimmed the rose enough that he could thread it between two buttonholes on his jacket, then bid farewell to Shadow and headed towards the greenhouse. The Monastery had come alive and students were bustling all around. Lorenz could feel eyes on him and whispers trailed after him, but he was used to both those things--it was the peril of his position, his upbringing, and being potentially... _ involved _ ...with Claude. 

He entered the greenhouse and meandered over to where the Fodlanese roses were grown, and discovered a small bundle tied around the base of one of the rose bushes. He knelt down and carefully untied it. The paper that tied the cloth on it had more Almyran words on one side, with Fodlanese on the other side: ‘Where would you get this from?’

_ This _ , Lorenz assumed, meant the tea in the teabag. It was thematically appropriate as Rose Blend, and Lorenz put the teabag and paper in his pocket.  _ I should have breakfast anyway. _

“Rare to see you tending to the flowers,” a voice said from behind Lorenz, making him shove down a startle reflex as he stood.

“I wasn’t,” Lorenz said as he turned to see Ashe watching him with poorly concealed curiosity, gardening tools in his hands. “I was admiring the roses and noticed something strange at the base of this bush, so was investigating. Nothing to worry about, thankfully.”

“Something strange?” Ashe said, frowning. “I should check all the other bushes, then, just to make sure it’s not some new fungus or mold. With the introduction of all the new plants from Brigid, Sreng, and Dagda it’s possible they brought an invasive disease with them. Something that those plants might be used to, but which Fodlanese ones are not.”

Lorenz hummed, feeling a  _ little _ bad for letting Ashe worry unnecessarily, but explaining that he was playing a  _ game _ with Claude wasn’t something he felt like doing. Still, he felt compelled to say: “Would you like me to assist?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” Ashe said with a smile. “You noticing something odd was help enough. I admit to not being adept at caring for roses. House Gloucester has a rose as part of their House seal, don’t they?”

“I’m impressed you know that,” Lorenz said.

“Since I’ve taken over House Gaspard, I had to brush up on all the remaining influential Houses, and Gloucester is premier in the former Alliance territories. I must confess that I am glad that  _ you _ are the one in control of your House now, and not your father.”

“Because we were comrades?”

“Because you are a just man, and he is, from all accounts, not,” Ashe said with utter seriousness and sincerity. 

“Oh,” Lorenz said, feeling bizarrely  _ flustered _ .

“I don’t think I would be able to tolerate working with him, and think he would make an awful advisor to the Professor, so I am glad that you have taken his place. I respect you and your judgement.”

“I do not think he would get along well in the new government anyway,” Lorenz admitted. “He would not know how to navigate sharing power with...those not originally of noble birth.”

Ashe gave him a surprisingly understanding smile. “You can say commoner. I’m not ashamed of where I’ve come from.”

“My apologies.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Ashe said, waving away Lorenz’s words. “I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” 

“For helping my beloved,” Ashe said, his face tinging slightly pink. “Being able to rely on former Alliance and Empire territories to make up for poor harvests has allowed her to support research in ways of making even her struggling lands fertile and productive, and it already looks as if that research will pay dividends. If you hadn’t made your surplus available to us--er, her--her people would have starved. So, thank you.”

“It was the correct thing to do,” Lorenz said. “Fodlan has to stand as one, or else we will all fall together.”

“And this is what I mean about you being a just man,” Ashe said as he set down the tools and rolled up his sleeves. “Just because it’s the right thing to do, doesn’t mean people do it. You, however,  _ did _ . And that speaks to your character.”

Lorenz coughed in discomfort. “Well. Your praise is appreciated. I will save you work, then, as thanks--there was nothing wrong with the rose bush, Claude is merely...he set up a scavenger hunt for me, and one of the clues was tied to the rose bush.”

Ashe blinked. “A scavenger hunt?”

“Yes,” Lorenz said and took out the tea bag. “I figure that this is directing me to the dining hall, since that’s where one picks up the tea.”

“Good luck on your hunt, then,” Ashe said. “You should probably hurry to the dining hall before they run out of breakfast.”

“Of course,” Lorenz said and left, replacing the tea bag in his pocket. 

The dining hall was half-filled with a mixture of Knights, students, staff, and assorted others. He picked up some breakfast food from what remained on the hot line and begged a tea pot again before sitting down with a soft sigh. He could feel eyes on him, but he pushed the sensation aside.

He was halfway through a blissfully uneventful meal when Sylvain slid into the seat across from him.

“To what do I owe this?” Lorenz asked mildly, watching Sylvain over the rim of his teacup. “You’re not here to inform me that you and Annette are going to attempt to meddle in my personal relationships?”

“No, nothing like that,” Sylvain said with a shake of his head and wry smile. 

“No pointers on how to flirt?”

“Nope.”

“...then why are you here?” Lorenz asked, his suspiciousness deepening with each denial.

“Encouragement,” Sylvain said with a grin. “And to offer my services if you have any questions about how intimacy between men works.”

Lorenz balked. “Come again?’

“That’s one thing I could give you pointers on, yeah.”

“Oh, goddess, Sylvain,  _ no _ , that’s not what I meant.”

Sylvain simply snickered. “I’m completely serious, though. Felix and I had to figure out a lot of stuff on our own--there isn’t exactly a lot of information on same-sex intimate relationships floating around out there. I’d like to save you some of the more awkward moments.”

“I’m not going to have sex with Claude,” Lorenz said, rubbing his temples, unable to believe that he was having  _ this _ conversation with  _ Sylvain _ .

“You’re not going to have sex with Claude  _ now, _ ” Sylvain said. “That could change in the future.”

“Then let me rephrase. I’m not having sex with Claude unless we’re married, and given that Almyra woulnd’t recognize such a marriage, that probably isn’t going to happen.”

“That’s what you tell yourself,” Sylvain said. “But I’d bet good money that Claude could talk you into finding a way to justify having sex with him without being married. Let me at least give you  _ one _ tip.”

“If it will make you drop this topic, then do so,” Lorenz said, his appetite ruined. 

“Preparation is key to making it enjoyable for  _ both _ of you,” Sylvain said, leaning in and dropping his voice to make it difficult for other people to overhear. “I can give you suggestions for good lubrication, if you’d like.”

Lorenz rubbed his eyes in embarrassment as he felt his face burn. “I said I’d listen to  _ one _ tip. If you have any more  _ advice _ to offer, you can provide it in writing.”

_ That way I can burn it, _ Lorenz thought. 

Sylvain actually grinned. “You know what? Sure, I’ll do that. You’ll get a list of my top tips and tricks for enjoying sex with a man. I might make a copy and add it to the school library, if only because the more you know, the fewer problems you’ll run up against, and I’m sure there are other students here who are interested in such things.”

_ Oh, that was a worse suggestion than I thought, _ Lorenz said, stifling a groan of dismay. 

“Oh, right, Annette gave this to me to give to you,” Sylvain said and retrieved a booklet from...somewhere. “Claude gave it to her initially, but she wasn’t sure she’d run into you, but knew  _ I _ would because I am more mobile than she is right now, so...here. Good luck?”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said and took the booklet from Sylvain. It was a libretto from one of Lorenz’s favorite operas, and when he opened it, a piece of paper fell out. Again, one side had Almyran text written on it, with the opposite side containing Fodlanese script. The Fodlanese portion read: ‘Where would you be most likely to hear this sung on Monastery grounds?’ 

_ The Cathedral, probably, _ Lorenz decided.  _ I’m glad that he chose to make these easy. _

Lorenz looked up to find Sylvain looking at him with open curiosity. 

“Do you have something else you want to embarrass me with?” Lorenz asked dryly.

“No, just didn’t think you’d like that opera,” Sylvain said. “Too much romance and not enough intrigue, I’d think.”

“You actually know this?” Lorenz asked.

Sylvain looked hurt. “I  _ like _ opera.”

“Really?” Lorenz asked, surprised. “What’s  _ your _ favorite?”

The last thing Lorenz ever expected was to have an in-depth and stimulating discussion about opera with Sylvain over the remnants of his breakfast. The man knew his composers and performers, which was...oddly delightful, and made the time pass perhaps too quickly. 

“We’ll have to pick this discussion up later,” Lorenz said as the hour bell rang. “I have...something to take care of.”

“Sure,” Sylvain said, sounding honestly surprised with himself. “I...I didn’t think I’d ever have anything in common with you besides a reputation.”

Lorenz nodded slowly. “The feeling is mutual, if it makes you feel any better.”

Sylvain chuckled. “Kinda does, actually. Maybe we could drag our significant others to an opera performance and discuss it afterwards? Felix is actually a fan, albeit a more casual one, and Annette likes the singing and costumes. I’m sure you could convince Claude that it’s part of Fodlanese culture he should experience at least once.”

Lorenz’s stomach did a pleasant flip-flop at the thought of taking Claude to see an opera performance. Showing him the private box his family had, explaining the intricacies of the performance, enjoying the time  _ alone _ …

“I’ll see if I can convince him. My family has a box that we could use and season tickets, if you don’t have such available.” Lorenz paused. “And Claude and I are not together.”

“And yet you accepted the assertion without protest initially,” Sylvain said, seeming pleased with himself. 

“An oversight,” Lorenz said. “We’ll schedule something later. Farewell for now.”

Lorenz turned in his tray and plates, then headed towards the Cathedral.

_ The Cathedral isn't exactly  _ small, _ though, _ Lorenz thought as he weaved around students and staff.  _ Where to start looking? Where would he hide the clue? _

When Lorenz entered the Cathedral, it was to find the choir practicing, and he hummed along as they sung one of his favorite hymns. 

_ I found him in the Saints’ antechamber, perhaps it will be hidden there? _ Lorenz thought, although he attempted to discreetly check all the nooks and crannies he passed, to no avail. He came up equally empty-handed after examining the Saints’ chamber thoroughly, so stood in front of the main fresco and tried his best not to scowl at the candles that represented all the lives lost during the War of the Three Crowns, as the war was coming to be known.

“What a brooding expression. It doesn’t suit you,” a voice said from behind him, and Lorenz looked over to see Manuela sashaying up to him. 

“My apologies,” Lorenz said. “I have been confronted with a problem that is proving...surprisingly difficult to solve.”

“I can probably solve it for you,” Manuela said. “Claude couldn’t decide where to conceal this in such a way that would not be  _ impossible _ to find, so handed it to me and begged me to give it to you when you arrived here. It’s hard to say no to him, isn’t it?”

The clue was contained in a small box, and Lorenz didn’t want to know where Manuela had been hiding it. 

“Thank you,” Lorenz said and took the box from her. “Why are you here? Don’t tell me Claude somehow managed to talk you out of teaching class just for this?”

“Oh, no, it is currently my House’s turn at the practice fields,” Manuela said. “Although you think quite highly of his oratory if you think he’d be able to convince me to cancel class.”

“He can be...persuasive,” Lorenz said and opened the box.

Upon opening it, it was revealed to be cufflinks in the form of the seal of the Golden Deer House on one side, glittering with minute crystals, while the backing was in the shape of a rose. 

“Oh, my, how lovely,” Manuela commented. “Claude has good taste.”

“So he does,” Lorenz murmured and immediately put them on. It was easier to wear them than carry around the box. “Thank you for passing these on to me.”

“Claude does have quite the silver tongue,” Manuela chuckled. “I’m also fond of you, so look forward to seeing how your poetry changes as a result of being in a relationship.”

“We are not in a relationship.”

“Could have fooled me,” Manuela said, “Given how quickly you put on his  _ gift _ .”

“I…”

“No, don’t make excuses,” Manuela said. “It’s unbecoming, particularly given how  _ obvious _ your attraction to each other is. And the rumors.”

Lorenz coughed, his face heating. “Lysithea did indicate that the rumors are...explicit.”

“That’s putting it like a noble!” Manuela laughed. “Now, don’t be a stranger, even if you are in Almyra.”

“People know…?”

“Of course,” Manuela said. “Nothing stays secret for long here.”

“True,” Lorenz sighed. “I promise that I will keep up our correspondence, although I’m not sure how. Apparently the Almyran capital is in the middle of the country, which is large. Messengers to and from Fodlan may be initially scarce.”

“Well, you’ll just have to establish a courier service, won’t you?” Manuela said. “I enjoy your poems, and they keep my own composing skills sharp.”

Lorenz tilted his head slightly in thought. “A courier service, hm? Who would be willing to run such a route? Perhaps Almyran from their capital to Fodlan’s Throat, and then a Fodlanese messenger would pick it up from there?”

“Something to discuss with Claude, I’d imagine,” Manuela said. She sighed wistfully. “I wish Hanneman would get me pretty things every now and then. I love him, but he does get lost in his research sometimes…”

Lorenz hated that he blushed at the implication. “Aha. If you’ll excuse me, I have other things to attend to. Thank you for giving these to me.”

_ What could these be indicating? _ Lorenz wondered as he meandered out of the Cathedral, examining the cufflinks.  _ Perhaps...the Golden Deer classroom? I’ll have to wait until classes let out, or hope that I catch them when they are out at weapons practice instead of in the classroom itself. _

To his relief--and suspicion--the classroom was empty when he arrived.

_ Where do I start? _ Lorenz wondered as a wave of nostalgia hit him when he entered.  _ Thankfully, the classroom isn’t terribly large… _

As he was looking over the books on the shelves, one caught his eye as seeming...too  _ new _ , so he carefully pulled it out. It was gorgeous, with a purple cover and gold-foil roses imprinted onto it. He carefully opened the book and saw a scrap of paper being used as a makeshift bookmark. The Fodlanese script read, ‘Once you finish writing your poetry in here, where would the published book reside?’

There was a certain  _ thrill _ to the thought of his poetry ever being published, but, at the same time, his poetry was a  _ private _ exercise, and he mildly resented Manuela setting his poems to song, but there was nothing he could do to stop her, since  _ asking _ had led nowhere. 

_ To the library next, then, _ Lorenz thought, sliding the libretto into the notebook so he wouldn’t have to carry them separately and risk losing one or the other.  _ Where did he even find this? _ He wondered as he headed out of the classroom.

“Lorenz,  _ there _ you are,” Hilda said and Lorenz felt her link her arm in his, the scent of her perfume wafting up to him.

“Hilda, a pleasure to see you,” Lorenz said with a smile, as he looked down to her. “Marianne is shy about it, but I have seen the ring you made for her, and it is truly exquisite. Congratulations are in order.”

Hilda smiled brightly at that and patted Lorenz upper arm gently. “You’re so sweet. Now, do you have a moment?”

“I would make time for you even if I didn't,” Lorenz answered.

“Great! Walk with me.”

Lorenz, curious, allowed himself to be led out of the classroom to one of the benches that looked out over the valley of Garreg Mach, students bustling to and fro, throwing them the occasional curious glance.

“What would you like to speak about?” Lorenz asked when he couldn’t tolerate the silence any longer. 

Hilda let out a soft sigh and said, “You  _ do _ know that Claude is more fragile than he lets on, right?”

Lorenz nodded slightly. “From what parts of his past he has deigned to reveal to me, it is apparent that his has not been an easy life. I’m...not surprised to hear that.” An idea struck Lorenz then. “Hilda, might I ask you a favor?”

“No. Hate to break it to you, but he already warned me you might try something,” Hilda said with a wry smile as she leaned back in the bench. “He’s stuck on you.”

“Stuck on me,” Lorenz repeated. “How do I get him  _ un _ stuck?”

“Do you  _ want _ him to be unstuck?”

“No. Yes? I don’t know,” Lorenz sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“If you’re not serious about him, you should let him go.”

Lorenz looked to Hilda, to find she was wearing a more serious expression than Lorenz could remember outside of battle. “I should let him go regardless of how serious I am.”

Hilda shook her head slowly. “Lorenz, listen. Claude wouldn’t recover from you cheating on him, and the Gloucesters aren’t exactly known for their  _ fidelity. _ So unless you buck the trend, it’s better for Claude if you don’t let things progress any further. The last thing you’d want is to make an enemy of Almyra again after brokering the treaty because you broke their king’s heart, right?”

“You think I’d cheat on Claude?” Lorenz asked, not offended as much as curious. Hilda wasn’t  _ wrong  _ about the Gloucester tradition of chronic infidelity--both the Counts and Countesses Gloucester were historically notorious for their many lovers. His father had proved no exception, and Lorenz half suspected that only his mother’s frailty kept her from finding solace from his father’s disregard in the arms of someone else. 

“I don’t know,” Hilda said, honesty in her tone. “I have never seen you commit to any one person, and growing up in a household where infidelity was the norm instead of the taboo might have given you…unrealistic expectations about how forgiving people are around cheating. I’ll give you a hint--most people aren’t, and Claude...” Hilda sighed. “He’s such a romantic sap, he’ll give his everything to the person he chooses, but also will expect the same level of devotion from them. Can you manage that? Because if you think your eye will wander, it’s better to break it off now, when things are still new, than when he’s grown attached.”

“I--” Lorenz started, but stopped when he realized he  _ couldn’t _ make the necessary assurances in honesty. Hilda was right--he’d never actually been in a relationship before, so how could he promise that he wouldn’t succumb to temptation if someone besides Claude expressed an interest in him? “I don’t want to hurt Claude,” he eventually said, which  _ was _ true--he would feel like  _ garbage _ if he hurt the other man. “I also think it’s already too late for me to break it off without irreparably hurting him.”

“Why? Have you already had sex?”

Lorenz’s face promptly flushed and he shook his head emphatically. “No, of course not.”

“There’s no  _ of course _ ,” Hilda said. “Not when he feels so strongly and your family’s history.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes.”

“My family’s infidelity starts after an heir is born,” Lorenz said. “Before that occurs, extra-marital or pre-marital sex is more-or-less forbidden. However, once the line of succession is assured, all bets are off.”

Hilda was silent for a  _ long _ moment, then said, “So, given that you can’t  _ have _ an heir with Claude, then your loyalty is basically guaranteed.”

Lorenz blinked. “You’re right.”

_ Dear goddess, what a loophole to exploit, _ Lorenz thought, feeling pleased for no discernable reason. 

“Well, then, I feel a bit better about letting you and he become a couple,” Hilda said and stretched. “Just know that if you break Claude’s heart, you’ll have not just an entire country to answer to, but me as well.”

“And that is, in all honesty, the worse threat,” Lorenz said. “I remember how you would decimate the enemies you encountered on the battlefield, and I would rather not face that ferocity myself.”

Hilda gave a very unladylike snort. “As long as you’re aware of the axe hanging over your head if you choose to be like every other Count Gloucester before you, I’m content.”

“Trust me, I am well aware of how much...how  _ complicated _ anything with Claude could be. And no matter how much I tell him I’m bad for him, he doesn’t  _ believe _ me.”

“Once Claude has committed to something, he doesn’t let go easily,” Hilda sighed. “He can be so intense. I think you’re the only one among us that can  _ handle _ his level of intensity.”

Lorenz startled slightly in mild surprise. “You think so?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s  _ way _ too much effort for me to handle, Leonie wouldn’t deal well with the restrictions of royalty, Lysithea  _ might _ be able to meet him intensity for intensity, but she also wants nothing to do with nobility. Marianne is still too unsure of herself to deal with court intrigue--they’d eat her alive. You can meet him step for step and can be just as obstinate. You two...well, you’re a good match.”

Lorenz shook his head. “If you say so. I’ll definitely keep your words in mind.”

“Good,” Hilda said and stood. “Well, I’m running late for lunch with Marianne, so I’ll see you around?”

“Before you leave, I’d like to discuss the transfer of power from me to Marianne with you in attendance,” Lorenz said. “She will likely rely on you until she has gained full confidence, which is why I want you there.”

“Marianne is going to lead the Alliance? No wonder she’s looked so anxious and distant.”

“The other option was Lysithea.”

“Aah, I see why she agreed now. Well, it’s gonna be a lot for her to handle and a pain for me to deal with, but we’ll manage together.”

“Exactly,” Lorenz said. “Are you free tonight or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow would be better,” Hilda said. “I’m sure she needs to talk with me about running the Alliance and work through a few things.”

“Very well. Tea time tomorrow?”

“Sounds as good a plan as any,” Hilda said. “See you then!”

Lorenz watched her walk away and ran his fingers through his hair once she was out of sight.

_ I have tried all my life to be different than my family, _ Lorenz thought.  _ Matters of the heart should be no different. I... _ if _ I agree to be something with Claude, I will do well by him, I swear it. _

Lorenz simmered in indecision for a moment more before pushing himself to his feet and heading towards the library. It shouldn’t be  _ too _ crowded, it being lunchtime and all.

_ Or, it may be extra crowded because students are taking advantage of the free time? _ Lorenz thought.  _ Let us hope it  _ isn’t _ busy. _

However, the same problem as the Cathedral applied to the library--there were just so many places to hide something, and he didn’t feel like examining  _ every _ book. Still, if that was what was necessary, he would do it.

He entered the library to find it busier than he’d like, but emptier than he’d feared.

“Lorenz, what good timing. I just woke up from my nap.”

Lorenz looked over to see Linhardt stretching in one of the seats, a pile of books around him. He rifled around in his bag, then placed a small vial with a now-familiar piece of paper on the table. “This is for you.”

“Claude recruited  _ you _ to help?” Lorenz said, incredulous, as he walked over, glad that the problem of where to look had resolved itself so easily.

“During our time as comrades we had some fascinating conversations about the nature of the Windcaller and the Immovable and whether or not they were related to the Immaculate One, among other things. He’s a brilliant man, but  _ far _ too driven and energetic,” Linhardt said around a yawn. “I wouldn’t say we were or are friends by any stretch of the imagination, but there is something to be said about finding an intellectual equal.”

Lorenz shoved down an expected spike of jealousy as he picked up the vial and turned the paper to its Fodlanese side.

‘Where would you use this?’

Lorenz frowned and examined the vial a little more thoroughly before carefully removing the top. When the scent of roses hit him, he couldn’t help but smile wryly.

_ The bathhouse. _

“Goddess, that’s strong,” Linhardt complained. “Even though you had it open for only a short time I feel like I’m going to be smelling roses for  _ hours _ .”

“There are far worse scents to be subject to,” Lorenz drawled and pocketed the vial. “Thank you for passing this on to me.”

“It was minimal trouble,” Linhardt said. “And the dance you two are engaged in is...amusing.”

“Is that so?” Lorenz said, perhaps more dryly than intended, but Linhardt’s somnolent nature generally irked him. “Well, you have my thanks again for passing this on to me. Good luck with your...research?”

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome and thank you,” Linhardt said, his attention already drifting to the stacks that surrounded him. 

The bell rang as he was leaving the library, and he was swept away with the students who were leaving as well, drawn into cautious conversation as people recognized him. Lorenz fidgeted with his cufflinks as he walked, and had to work to keep a fond smile off his face.  _ I wonder where he found these. _

After retrieving lunch for himself, Lorenz left the dining hall in favor of the garden and found a spare bench.  _ I should drop off my clues in my room. They’re getting a bit unwieldy to carry. _

“Lorenz! Care for company?”

Lorenz looked up to see Petra with her own tray. Considering it would be  _ exceedingly _ rude to decline the presence of the Brigidian Queen, Lorenz moved his teapot and gestured for Petra to take a seat. “I’d be honored.”

Petra took a seat, arranging the tray on her lap. “It is good that the weather is nice.”

Lorenz nodded.  _ Petra and Claude were also close. Am I to get the same ‘Don’t hurt Claude’ talk from her?  _ “Is the weather in Brigid nice this time of year?”

Petra shook her head. “Storms are many. It was dangerous to cross the ocean to come here, but I wanted to see everyone.”

“I’m sure Claude was pleased to see you again,” Lorenz said.

Petra looked...oddly sad. “I am wishing he had told me he was the Almyran heir. It would have been nice to have another royal heir to speak with about the pressures of ascension without deception.”

“He does like his secrets,” Lorenz said and took a sip of his tea.

“I am not understanding that about him,” Petra said and shook her head. “Secrets only lead to pain.”

“Perhaps,” Lorenz said, his heart twinging as the statement hit a little too close to home. “Have you been enjoying your time back at the Monastery?”

Their conversation was a leisurely meander amongst the perils of international diplomacy, particularly with Dagda, which, while allied to Fodlan through Brigid, was still casually hostile, and the new treaty with Almyra was still on tenuous grounds. 

“Perhaps Brigid should send an envoy, too,” Petra mused. “Fodlan and Brigid are quite close in location, but not in culture. Brigid and Almyra have more similarities, I think. It might help them acclimate to the treaty.”

“That is true. I would never turn down such assistance,” Lorenz said, even if a part of him irrationally bristled at the thought of traveling with anyone besides Claude. “I am going to be returning to my home territory to ensure everything is in order, but perhaps we could meet a Brigidian envoy in Goneril territory?”

Petra nodded thoughtfully. “I will send a messenger home and ask for volunteers. If you will excuse me.”

Lorenz stood along with Petra and returned his tray along with her, before he bid her farewell, dropped off his gifts in his borrowed room, and headed off towards the baths, where his next clue waited. Approaching the bathhouse made his own face warm as memories of his rather  _ forward _ behavior resurfaced. It didn’t help that the sense of being  _ watched _ had returned.

_ What on earth was I thinking? _ Lorenz wondered.  _ That should not have felt as good as it did. _

Lorenz ascended the stairs towards the building, and sent up a quick prayer that it would be empty so he could search in peace--and that it wouldn’t be in the bath section itself. He was not so lucky, as Caspar was drying himself off as Lorenz walked into the changing room, and flashed Lorenz a quick smile. 

“Saw you spar with Catherine, what, yesterday? The day before?” Caspar said, draping his towel over his shoulders. “We should practice together sometime before you leave! I still have a little bit of trouble working around opponents with your skill set, so it’d be fun  _ and _ useful.”

“I won’t be around much longer, but if you have time tomorrow morning…”

“Yup, definitely do,” Caspar said. “I like sparring against Raphael, but it’ll be good to get a work out with a different practice partner.”

“Ah, quick question. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary in the baths or sauna?”

Caspar blinked, then scratched his chin as he thought. “No, but I remember being annoyed that my favorite cabinet in here was already in use in spite of no one else being here. I guess someone forgot their belongings. I hope they didn’t leave anything important behind.”

“Which cabinet is that?”

“That one,” Caspar said and pointed to a closed cabinet. “Why?”

“I am...engaging in a scavenger hunt, and my latest clue pointed me here, so it’s possible that my final clue is waiting in there.”

“And if it isn’t and you’ve just randomly opened it to see someone else’s stuff?”

“Then I close the cabinet and leave it undisturbed,” Lorenz replied as he examined the cabinet. There was the slightest hint of magic about it, which was likely what had deterred a non-magic user like Caspar from prying too much into it. Lorenz was particularly good with diffusing magical traps, although that wasn’t something he made public knowledge, half because using magic to set traps was  _ technically _ illegal and half because, as Claude liked to put it, he did like having a few cards up his sleeve that would surprise an opponent. Thankfully, the magic seemed to be more meant to make people who didn’t  _ have _ magic uneasy and those who did were likely unwilling to tamper, so there was no actual trap to attend to; inside wasn’t the belongings of a random student, but a piece of paper and a final clue--an apple. 

‘Who would you normally give this to as a treat?’

_ So, the hunt ends where it began--the stables _ .

“An apple?” Caspsar said, having watched Lorenz as he donned his armor. 

“Yes,” Lorenz said and pocketed both the paper and fruit. 

“And that’s all you need to know where to go?” Caspsar pressed, incredulous.

“The hints have been obvious and tailored to my...understanding,” Lorenz said with a shrug. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for our spar.”

“Alright,” Caspar said absently as he fought with one of his greaves, which allowed Lorenz to slip away without further conversation.

_ Why do I think this is the end? _ Lorenz wondered as he walked to the stables.  _ I suppose it’s because the stables would have everything come full circle and that just feels...appropriate. _

Lorenz was less surprised than he thought he would be to find Claude murmuring to Shadow and tending to him. The man  _ had _ indicated he planned to get the stallion on his side.

“Claude,” Lorenz said, and Claude looked away from Shadow to give him a smile.

“You found them all, huh?” Claude said, trying and failing to sound casual.

“How long have you been waiting here?” Lorenz asked as Claude put away the brush he had been using to tend to Shadow.

“Not that long,” Claude said. “I had a pretty good idea of when you’d find your way here.”

“So, were you watching me all day, hm? It was  _ your _ eyes I felt?” Lorenz asked, stepping into the stall wherein Shadow promptly sniffed his pockets for sugar cubes. Lorenz gave him the apple-clue to make him stop. 

“Well, I wanted to make sure you found everything,” Claude said, face flushing, he not quite looking directly at Lorenz. “I also...liked seeing how you reacted to my gifts and clues and whatnot.”

“They were all very...thoughtful,” Lorenz said and gently pressed his fingertips to Claude’s cheek to make the other man look at him. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to do it,” Claude said. “So there is no need for thanks. I want to...I want to play more games with you. Make up for some of the joy you missed as a kid. It’s not too late to still have fun, y’know?”

“I suppose,” Lorenz said. 

“Oh, right,” Claude said. “Can I have all the scraps of paper?”

Lorenz handed over the ‘clues’ with the seemingly random Almyran words written on them. Claude shifted them into the correct order, then read the sentence aloud. “I was compelled to love you, not because you are the fairest, but because you are the deepest,” Claude translated after a moment, his face darkening. “Although you  _ are _ breathtakingly handsome,” he added with a wink.

“Claude,” Lorenz said, hating how his heart skipped a beat or three. “Are  _ you _ my reward?” he asked and reached out to carefully run his fingers through Claude’s hair to cup the back of his head, forcing Claude to look up and hold his eyes. “Are  _ you _ what I have been hunting for all of today?”

Claude’s face grew dark and he visibly swallowed. “And if I am?” he asked as he stepped in, wrapping his arms around Lorenz’s waist and leaning into his body. “After all, the clues I left for you  _ did  _ lead you back to me...”

_ Mine. _

“You would give yourself to me?” Lorenz asked, his voice a low, deep purr, his free hand putting pressure on Claude’s lower back and pushing him close. “I wonder, what should I claim from you as my prize?” Lorenz continued, his other hand moving from the back of Claude’s head to cup his chin and run his thumb along Claude’s bottom lip.

Claude’s lips reflexively parted, his eyes growing dark with burgeoning arousal. “Usually it’s the person who sets up the scavenger hunt that determines the ultimate prize.”

“Then...what are  _ you _ willing to give me?” Lorenz asked and shifted so they were better hidden in the stall, turning just enough to fetch Claude up against the wall. “Well, Your Majesty? Tell me what part of you I can claim as my own.”

Claude looked like temptation incarnate, somehow a blend of both demure and alluring, his own face flushed dark as he seemed to inexplicably  _ relax _ , resting his forearms on Lorenz’s shoulders, carding his fingers ever-so-lightly through Lorenz’s hair. 

“I am willing to give you everything,” Claude whispered, his voice delightfully husky. “But, for now, you can claim a kiss.”

The normally soft, insistent whispers of  _ mine _ crescendoed into a deafening roar, and Lorenz moved on instinct alone, shifting so his body concealed Claude from sight as much as possible before leaning in and kissing Claude. Claude’s arms were around his (Lorenz’s) neck, fingers tangling in his hair as Lorenz sandwiched Claude’s body between his own and the wall, pressed close enough and tightly enough that one of Lorenz’s forearms was resting on the wall, the fingers of that hand gripping Claude’s hair and tilting his head ever so slightly to provide and easier and more comfortable angle. His other hand was trying to decide whether or not it wanted to get rid of Claude’s sash, running slowly up and down the width of the fabric and along Claude’s side. 

It wasn’t a  _ gentle _ kiss by any means, and when it finally broke, Claude looked distinctly overwhelmed, and Lorenz  _ knew _ he was trembling--but  _ that _ was from the effort of fighting back the desire to simply rip off Claude’s clothes and mark every inch of him with hands and nails and lips and tongue and teeth, make him come and cry with pain and pleasure, and if people  _ saw _ , all the better, because no one would  _ ever _ make the mistake of looking at Claude with their own amorous intent, because Claude was  _ his _ . 

“Again,” Claude panted against Lorenz’s lips, and Lorenz obliged; who was he to disobey a direct order from a  _ king _ ? 

_ More _ joined the chorus of  _ mine _ , and Lorenz tossed Ferdinand’s request for nothing explicit to be done publicly aside, Lorenz finally figuring out how to correctly untuck Claude’s sash, the piece of fabric falling to the stable floor with a soft shimmer of the coins. Claude shivered at the sound, but caught Lorenz’s hand before it could stray further, pointedly intertwining their fingers. 

Lorenz  _ remembered _ the morning, however, and the soft, shivering sigh that escaped Claude when Lorenz broke the kiss to tend to Claude’s neck and ear was vindication. Claude clung to him, his breaths coming short, shallow, and fast; he molded himself to Lorenz’s body, almost seeming like he wanted to disappear into his form, concealed, protected, safe--

“Mine,” Lorenz growled in Claude’s ear.

He was  _ not _ expecting the quiet, sharp exhale of, “Gods,  _ yes _ ,” that escaped Claude.

_ Oh. He….he  _ likes _ this? _

His confusion made him pull back enough to get a look at Claude’s face, and the man looked  _ good _ with kiss-swollen lips, eyes fogged with arousal and clinging to him like he wouldn’t be able to stand without Lorenz’s support. 

Of course, it was then that Shadow reminded them they weren’t alone by headbutting Lorenz, making them both stagger slightly. Once they regained their balance, they started to giggle, then broke out into full-throated laughter that verged on panicked for  _ both _ of them. 

“I’m sorry,” Lorenz said and pulled back, smoothing down Claude’s clothing before he bent down and picked up Claude’s discarded sash. 

“You’d think I’d have learned by now that figuring out the right buttons to push in you is as much punishment as reward,” Claude panted as he took the sash from Lorenz, leaning heavily against the wall. “Gods, I’m going to remember this.”

Lorenz coughed in embarrassed discomfort. “I...may I ask a question?”

“Sure,” Claude said as he retied the sash.

“Why did you like that?” 

Claude’s motions momentarily stopped as he considered Lorenz’s question. “A lot of people would find that position to be entrapment, but with you covering me, I felt...protected. Safe. Like you’d never let anything get to me or harm me, so I could finally  _ let go _ . I didn’t have to be constantly aware and on edge because I’m with  _ you _ . I know you might see yourself as a danger to me or some bullshit like that, but it really is true that the place I feel safest is in your arms.”

Lorenz chuckled bitterly. “Safe? With me? I...whenever you push me, all I can think about is, is...is claiming you, marking you as mine, possessing you, and never letting you go. It’s...it’s the times that I cave to the imperative to make you  _ mine _ that scares me the most, because you aren’t a thing to be owned, you’re a person to be ch-cherished, so why…?”

“You have the soul of a hopeless romantic, but were taught by your family that love is a monstrous thing,” Claude said, gently running the pads of his thumbs along Lorenz’s jaw. “It’s why you have such a hard time believing me no matter what I do to show you that I care and why you don’t trust yourself.”

Shadow  _ again _ attempted to insert himself, and Claude treated the stallion to the darkest scowl Lorenz had ever seen him wear, while Lorenz pushed the horse’s head gently away.

“We’re  _ fine _ , relax,” Lorenz said and fished an only half-crumbled sugar cube out of his pocket. Shadow seemed unconvinced, but took the sugar cube and left them alone. 

At that moment, the clock chimed the hour, and Lorenz grimaced. “Claude, I’m sorry, but I have a tea scheduled with Lysithea--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Claude said, waving the apology away. “Can I expect to see you at dinner?”

“Yes,” Lorenz said and pressed a gentle kiss on Claude’s forehead. “Just...be slightly more circumspect when flirting with me, okay?”

“I’ll be more subtle, I promise,” Claude said. “Well, as long as  _ you _ promise to behave.”

“I shall,” Lorenz said, his face warm as he left the stall. 

As he was leaving, he caught Claude hiss to Shadow: “If you ever cockblock me like that again, I swear to the gods that I will make sure that you can never be used as a stud.”

Lorenz swallowed down a laugh, shaking his head slightly as he meandered to the tea garden. 

Lysithea was nibbling on a tea cake when Lorenz found her, and gave him a wry smile. “You’re late.”

“My apologies for keeping you waiting. I was...distracted,” Lorenz said, hating that he didn’t manage to conquer a blush as he took a seat. 

“Distracted,” Lysithea said, quirking an eyebrow. “Right.”

“Thank you for agreeing to have tea with me,” Lorenz said, pouring a cup of tea for Lysithea and himself. “Honeyed Fruit blend?”

“It’s the best blend in the tea pantry,” Lysithea said. “So.”

“Yes?”

“How’d you like the scavenger hunt?”

Lorenz blinked. “How do you know about that?”

“Cyril mentioned to me that Claude had asked him and the groundskeepers to not move certain things placed in certain places because he was setting up a scavenger hunt for you. Cyril thought it was...both charming and weird. Cyril is rather blunt sometimes, particularly when it comes to love, so he can’t understand why Claude would go to such roundabout lengths to shower you with gifts.”

“Oh,” Lorenz said. “That’s why he did it?”

“Um, yeah,” Lysithea drawled. She took another tea cake from the sweets tray and said, “If he had attempted to give you those gifts outright, would you have accepted them?”

Lorenz took a breath to respond, paused, then let the breath out in a sigh. “I would have out of courtesy, but would not understand  _ why _ he gave them to me.”

_ Although he did mention he intended to give me things, _ Lorenz thought. 

“Hey, Lorenz?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you really want to have tea with me?”

Lorenz frowned sharply. “I consider you a friend, and we have not spoken in some time. You are busy with your research and I with governance, so the fact that we are both free at the same time is rare.”

“I guess,” Lysithea said. “But, that’s really it? You just want to...talk?”

“If Marianne hadn’t agreed, I was going to ask you if you wanted to take on stewardship of the Alliance, since I will be going to Almyra with Claude as the Fodlanese ambassador; however, Marianne  _ did _ agree to take control of the Alliance so you may live your life out in peace doing research and without the pressures of nobility. Since that concern has been taken care of, yes, all I want to do is spend some time chatting. Is that so odd?”

Lysithea held up her hand in a request for patience, since she had just taken a large bite of cake. After washing it down with some tea, she said, “You were going to ask  _ me _ to run the  _ Alliance _ ?”

“Yes,” Lorenz said. “But, Marianne has taken on that responsibility so--”

“Why?! What makes you think I’d be even remotely good at it?”

“Because you’re doing exactly this,” Lorenz said. “You wouldn’t allow yourself to be cowed by titles or tradition, and the nobility would learn to fear you and your tongue. You would be a  _ force _ , and with your intellect and tactical acumen, I am convinced you would not lead the Alliance territories astray.”

Lysithea clearly swallowed what she had been about to say and frowned at the half-eaten cake on her plate, thinking hard. She eventually sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Your estimation of me is...accurate, so I suppose I wouldn’t do  _ that _ bad of a job if Marianne had said no.”

“But, you renounced your nobility, which is why I asked Marianne first. I respect your wishes for a quiet life, even if I don’t understand why.”

“Thanks...I guess,” Lysithea said. 

“You’re welcome.”

“So...you’re going to Almyra?”

Lorenz blinked. “That’s right, Mercedes mentioned Cyril taught you how to speak it! I have someone I can check what Claude has been teaching me against. If you wouldn’t mind, could I go through what I know of Almyran and you can tell me if he’s led me astray?”

“Given how much he wants to be held in esteem by you, I doubt he’d lead you wrong, but, sure. What has he taught you so far?”

It was fun learning and practicing Almyran with Lysithea, as she had  _ opinions _ on how Claude chose to teach him, but also because Claude was apparently teaching him a different and more formal dialect than what Cyril spoke and taught her. Lysithea ended up eating all the sweets while Lorenz finished the tea as they exchanged knowledge, and both startled when the dinner bell rang.

“Have we really been talking for  _ two hours _ ?” Lysithea said, astonished. 

“Am I truly that onerous?” Lorenz asked, mildly hurt. 

“No, no, clearly not,” Lysithea said. “You’ve changed since the war--significantly. Before I would have likely strangled you or found a reason to excuse myself to avoid discussions about nobility and my health, but, instead...you found a way to respect my wishes to no longer be a noble  _ and _ have proven that there’s a lot more going on in your head besides your noble obligations and marriage. You really want the Almyra thing to work, don’t you?”

“It’s a huge gamble, going into formerly enemy territory, and I should probably see about asking for an escort, if only so I won’t be the  _ only _ Fodlanese native in the country, but, yes--I do want to see it succeed. Was I really that bad, though?”

“When I didn’t think I had a future to look forward to, hearing you speak about marriage and whatnot...hurt,” Lysithea said. “So, perhaps my memories are colored by my desperation and resentment that  _ you _ would have a future while I was deprived of one. But, you really  _ have _ changed, and for the better.”

“I am sorry if I was insensitive,” Lorenz said as he stood. “I...being involved in diplomacy and having spent time with both commoners and nobility has changed my perspective significantly.”

Lysithea stood and stretched. “You’re off to dinner?”

“I promised I’d meet up with Claude.”

“Then don’t keep him waiting, I’ll get this all back to the kitchen,” Lysithea said and made a shooing motion. 

“By your leave, then,” Lorenz said and took Lysithea’s hand, pressing a quick kiss to it before heading toward the dining hall.

_ I should get Claude something, _ Lorenz thought.  _ But...what? I...I don’t know him as well as I should. I need to ask him more about his likes and dislikes, so that I can get him things that would make sense. So, I suppose that will be the first step. Ask Hilda, Petra, Annette, and Lysithea what his preferences are. He seems to like playing games, so perhaps...I should offer to play something without him asking? Not like I know  _ what _ we would play...I’m decent at chess, so perhaps I could ask him for a match? I’m sure I’ll lose, but perhaps we can also talk while playing and I can learn more about him... _

Lorenz nodded slightly.  _ I’ll start tonight. I think...I think he likes pheasant. I know the teas he prefers. Maybe I can...I can curate a meal? I’m sure I can manage that at the manse, but we won’t be passing through many towns on the way over-- _

Lorenz stopped his walking and stepped aside so the students could pass him.  _ I want to be in a relationship with him, don’t I? I shouldn’t. I can’t. But he’s in my head now, in my heart, and I can’t...I can’t  _ dislodge  _ him. Damnit. _

Lorenz let out a long, slow sigh.  _ This isn’t going to go over well with my family. I need to be ready for a fight, ready to protect him as best I can. I  _ will _ keep him safe from my parents. _

Dread pooled in Lorenz’s stomach, but he tossed aside the emotion. Claude was worth it. Wasn’t he? The question was, really--was  _ he _ worth the pain? Claude still didn’t know so much, there was still a chance that he’d be able to drive Claude away before he was hurt.

_ Better that I bruise his heart rather than break it, _ Lorenz thought, looking at the cufflinks as melancholy settled around him like a lead cloak.  _ I’ll tell him more tomorrow. He should know...he should know the kind of person he’s really getting involved with. _

Lorenz steeled himself, shoved down his sadness, and turned his steps to the dining hall--and Claude.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter that jerks you a bit all over the place. It includes a bit of headcanon, too. CW for childhood trauma. There's...a lot of Emotions in this here chapter.
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who reads, comments, kudos, bookmarks, whatever. I like know I'm not shouting into the void. 
> 
> And finally, FE:3H still does not belong to me.

Lorenz woke with a strangled cry of terror, his hands over his mouth to muffle himself--if he was too loud, he’d be punished. He was drenched in a cold sweat, his  heart beating fast and hard enough that he was distantly afraid it would bruise itself against his ribs. The dream was already fading, but he couldn’t get dream-Claude’s cries of pain out of his head.

_ No, no, no, I wouldn’t--I’d never-- _ he protested, even as doubts crowded him. Would he really? How could he be sure he wouldn’t hurt Claude? The last time he had been physically intimate with someone, he  _ had _ hurt them, and he had been trying to be careful and gentle. Claude stirred unworthy,  _ dangerous _ things in him. What’s to say that, if pushed past the point of his stranglehold on his passions, he  _ wouldn’t _ turn violent in his  _ affections _ ? He was a Gloucester, they  _ consumed _ and  _ took _ with little thought for the opinions of others. Why wouldn’t he be exactly the same? He tried and tried to be different, but blood would always run true and--

“Lorenz?”

Claude’s voice was thick with sleep and confusion, and sent a new spike of panic through Lorenz, making him struggle out of Claude’s loose embrace and fall off the bed and onto the floor. The pain was negligible as he scrambled to put the room between them, pressing his back against the far wall. 

The pre-dawn light traced the lines of Claude’s torso and face as he sat up, a frown of concern forming on his face. “Lorenz, what’s wrong?”

“Stay there,” Lorenz said quickly, his voice tight and high. “Just--just stay.”

Claude turned on the bed so his feet rested on the floor, but didn’t move any farther than that. Lorenz’s ragged breathing was the only sound in the room, and Lorenz  _ hated _ that he was close to tears. 

_ “A true noble is always in control of their emotions. To allow yourself to succumb to them is the ultimate weakness.” _

Lorenz shut his eyes and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to find some sort of calm center, but the only thing that greeted him was groaning ghosts of memories, the moaning undead of the things he tried to forget dragging him down further into a spiral of dread and panic, reminding him of all the awful things he had done in pursuit of his parents’ approval and their definition of  _ perfection _ . All the  _ pain _ he had inflicted. The pain he had endured when he didn’t measure up.

Dream-Claude’s agonized pleas for him to  _ stop _ still echoed in his ears.

Lorenz had a grave for himself already dug in his soul, close to the core of his magic, but it had been over a decade since he had taken refuge in its cold embrace. If he pretended he was dead, too, the ravenous spectres of regret and shame tended to leave him alone. Emaciated hands that dripped with acidic blood scrabbled at the edges of his deathly sanctuary, scattering dirt that were snippets of decayed memories he had buried far enough down that he could no longer put them in context over him. The phantasmal vortex of whispered accusations and groaning agony gradually dissipated, leaving him trembling and cold. 

He slowly climbed out of his grave, finding peace in the unnatural stillness and quickly dug a hole for what remnants of the dream clung to him like a parasite, and shoved them into the yawning darkness, smoothing dirt made of stubbornness, magic, and sheer willpower over it. Hopefully it would be enough. It usually was, but Claude was exceptional in many things.

There was always a bit of confusion and lethargy that came along with resurfacing from the sepulcher of his soul, and he never had a clear memory of what passed when he had retreated like that. From what he had pieced together during his childhood, he was unnaturally calm, pliable, quiet, and obedient. 

So why Claude looked distinctly distressed was  _ confusing _ . He had at least listened and remained on the bed.

“Claude?” Lorenz said softly.

Claude startled slightly and his shoulders dropped in  _ relief _ . “Oh, thank fuck. Can I...can I go to you?”

Lorenz pat the floor beside him and Claude nearly threw himself off the bed, dragging the blanket with him and covering the both of them with it once he had taken a seat next to Lorenz. 

“Will you...will you tell me what happened?”

“A nightmare stirred up bad memories,” Lorenz replied, his voice still soft as he resolutely looked at the floor and not at Claude.

“ _ Really _ bad memories,” Claude said and scooted a little closer so their shoulders touched. “Can you tell me what those memories were? It might be good to talk about them, maybe they won’t be so strong?”

“You shouldn’t care about me,” Lorenz said as he shook his head slowly. “I’m a bad person and you’re not. After how difficult your life has been, you deserve better than me. There’s just...I have too many hidden edges, and the last thing I want is to hurt you or be a burden.”

“Lorenz, you’re not a bad--”

“Yes, I am! Why can’t you see that?” Lorenz snapped. “I know you were only in Fodlan for six years, but surely you heard all the rumors about my family. They’re not  _ lies _ , you know. We’re a twisted House, have been the villains behind the curtain for as long as we’ve been in existence, the spiders that lie in wait until our chosen prey is too weak to struggle anymore before consuming them. How do you think the Agarthans had  _ any _ kind of foothold in Fodlan? They should have been driven underground for good to simmer in impotent rage, but the original Gloucester kept his ties with the people who gave him power. We provided them with shelter, with funding, with a way to stay in touch with the surface world so that, one day, they could enact their revenge and put  _ us _ in the position of ultimate power. If it wasn’t for my House, all the  _ awful _ things that plagued our school days would never have happened, the entire civil war could have been avoided! So many people could have avoided suffering and death!”

“What?” 

_ Hate me! Leave me! Stop--stop  _ caring _ about me! How can I hurt you enough to leave me alone? Some pain now will prevent agony later. _

The part of him that  _ wanted _ Claude thrashed against the cloying darkness that suffused his soul, but it would die in the end. It was inevitable.

“So just--just--leave! I don’t want you to suffer because of  _ me _ . I want you to be happy, to have a fulfilling life where you achieve all your dreams, and being with me will prevent all that.”

“Lorenz…”

“No! Don’t sound so  _ sad _ . Enduring a little pain now will save you from so much worse later,” Lorenz said. “Your love is like, like--sitting an emaciated prisoner before a banquet of every food that was used to try to kill him when he was free and trying to assure him that, no,  _ these _ are not dangerous. How can he be sure that he’s not being lied to? How can he be sure that his  _ presence _ itself isn’t poison?”

“Lorenz.”

“What?”

“Do you think your father or mother worries about this?”

“...what?”

“Do you think either of your parents see themselves or the House as villainous?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“I’d hazard they don’t,” Claude said. “I bet they see all their actions as justified in one way or another. How did you avoid that?”

“I was raised by books as much as by them,” Lorenz admitted. “If I was becoming too  _ troublesome _ , they’d lock me in my room with enough books to keep me occupied and quiet, although they  _ would _ quiz me on the contents of said books once they decided I’d learned my lesson. They let me correspond with the scholars who wrote those books, so I was exposed to...different ways of thinking that clashed with what they taught me directly. That correspondance gave me perspective, which is why I know...why I know that how my father governed and how they ran the household was  _ wrong _ . That doesn’t mean that their influence isn’t written in my blood and darker corners of my mind and soul.”

Claude took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, steady sigh. “Okay. We’re going to take a couple steps back. I won’t tell you I love you anymore.”

Lorenz’s shoulder dropped in relief. “Good.”

“Your parents were wrong.”

Lorenz looked over to Claude sharply. “What?”

Claude’s expression was carefully neutral. “How your parents treated you was  _ wrong _ .”

“How--how can you say that?”

“My parents never raised a hand to me, even when I got in trouble,” Claude said. “I got a talking-to, but they never yelled at me and they never hurt me. They never locked me in a room even if I was acting out. They’d sit me down and find out  _ why _ I was acting out, and explain to me why I was behaving inappropriately, and then assign me a punishment commensurate with my misbehavior. Like, one time when I misbehaved and caused a mess when another, influential tribe was visiting, they had  _ me _ personally clean up the mess I made--which included doing laundry on some rather delicate and precious pieces of clothing--and apologize to the servants and necessary dignitaries. I was also assigned to help the servants clean each day for a week, so I gained a better appreciation for how hard they worked to keep our home neat. I think there was an essay as well, but I remember the cleaning more than anything else.”

“...that’s it?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Lorenz shook his head in disbelief. “Then you ‘acting out’ must not have been as bad as you’re making it out to sound.”

“No, it was pretty bad,” Claude said. “Someone insulted my parents and I was in my angry stage, so even though I should have let their insult slide because they were being petty and dumb or give them an underhanded insult in return, I instead grabbed whatever food was nearby and threw it at them as hard as I possibly could and yelled at them. I made quite a bit of a mess before my father restrained me and took me out to a nearby garden to calm down. I trampled the flower beds pretty thoroughly as I worked out my anger. It was too far to the training grounds.”

Ice-cold horror clenched Lorenz’s heart at Claude’s description of his behavior. If  _ he _ had done that…

“Your expression tells me that your parents wouldn’t have been so understanding.”

Lorenz shook his head. “No, I would not have gotten off so lightly.”

“Then what would they have done?”

“I...I can’t even fathom the punishment for being so, so  _ vulgar. _ When I accidentally broached etiquette at a banquet once, I was...”

“You were what?”

“I was given thick and boring tomes on etiquette to read, and was quizzed after each. If I got even one question wrong, I had to re-read the book, and went longer without food or water. It was incentive to finish the books and get them right, you see.”

“Want to know what most people would consider that ‘punishment’ to be?”

“...what?”

“Torture,” Claude said simply. “Your parents didn’t  _ punish _ you, they  _ tortured _ you.”

“No, they didn’t,” Lorenz said, shaking his head. “I know what torture is, and they only inflicted that when I was older so I would know how to resist the most common techniques and lie convincingly in spite of the pain.”

Claude  _ stared _ . “I’m sorry, but I must have misheard. Did you just say that your parents deliberately tortured you?”

“Well, my father. My mother would have been too gentle.”

Claude shook his head, his expression fixed in disbelief. “I was the heir apparent, Lorenz, and multiple people attempted to kidnap and kill me, and  _ never _ did it cross my parents mind to torture their only child.”

“You must have always had a strong will,” Lorenz said. “They likely felt it unnecessary.”

“No, Lorenz. Torturing anyone is  _ wrong _ . Torturing your child is morally reprehensible.”

Lorenz saw an opening and took it. “I’ve done it. I uncovered a plot to assassinate the Sovereign, but the conspirators weren’t willing to talk, so I made them. Every technique that was used against me I also learned how to do skillfully.”

While he  _ had _ been successful at obtaining the information he wanted from the seditious conspirators, afterwards he had been physically ill, felt detached from himself, and had vivid nightmares of his own experiences--but he had done it. 

Claude huffed a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you enjoy it?”

“No,” Lorenz admitted, unwilling to lie to  _ Claude _ . 

“That’s the important part,” Claude said. “That’s the difference between your father--your family--and you. Your father would have probably enjoyed inflicting that pain. You only did it because you had the knowledge, and used it to prevent an event that would have thrown all of Fodlan right back into chaos. I won’t say it isn’t  _ bad _ , but...it’s just something you  _ know _ , not something that you go out of your way to inflict on the people you care about or are under your care, right? You said you punish your servants by forcing them to take days off and docking their pay. Your father used  _ rape _ , your mother used whipping. Are you seeing the difference?”

“I know they were wrong in their techniques--instilling fear in those whose lives and livelihoods you are responsible for only turns them against you and encourages resentment. I’d rather be liked and respected than feared.”

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“ _ You _ were their responsibility, too. They were supposed to care for you, nurture you, support you. But, because they are your parents and you’re supposed to be loyal to them and your House, your fear turned into a desperate need for their approval and to squeeze even a  _ fraction _ of affection and good regard from them. Affection they are incapable of giving.”

Lorenz shook his head, although he wasn’t sure  _ what _ he was denying. 

“Lorenz, will you look at me?” Claude asked, his voice soft and sad.

Lorenz reluctantly did so, and swallowed at the pain and sadness in Claude’s expression.

“You deserved none of what they did to you.”

“Of course I did. If only I had been a better son, then--”

“No, Lorenz,” Claude said and gently, carefully ran his fingers through Lorenz’s hair. “It wouldn’t matter if you were the ideal son. They would have still found fault in you and tried to punish you into being what they wanted. Their one saving grace is their oversight in allowing you to communicate with people outside your immediate family. If they hadn’t done that, you would have turned out just like them.”

“I had to sneak some letters out,” Lorenz admitted. “I...there was a poet and a novelist who I also corresponded with alongside the scholars. The poet encouraged my own creative leanings, and I apparently helped the novelist out of a writer’s block with our correspondence. She sent me a first-copy of her book that she wrote with my ‘help.’”

“Do you have it still or did your parents confiscate it?”

“It’s the one book I saved from their purge of my fiction collection,” Lorenz said and pulled his bag over to him. He rooted through his belongings and pulled out the lovingly worn book. “The title is wrong, and the first two chapters and the last one are all fake so the book would get around my parents’ inspection. I don’t know what she actually titled the book, so I’ve never been able to find another copy to replace this one. At the same time...I don’t want to.”

“May I see it?” 

Panic crushed Lorenz’s lungs, and he had to force himself to breathe. Claude wouldn’t run off with it, wouldn’t destroy it. He could trust Claude.

“You can keep holding it,” Claude said quickly, clearly noticing Lorenz’s distress. “You don’t have to give it to me. I browsed a lot of the library here, and they  _ do _ have a fiction section, although you have to go looking for it. Maybe I can identify the book and obtain a copy so I can read it myself and we can...discuss it?”

“It’s not that interesting, it has more sentimental value than anything else,” Lorenz said, his face heating slightly. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t  _ have _ to do that. I want to.”

“No, you’ve already done so much--too much--and I’ve been bad about reciprocating like I should. Maybe you can tell me one of your favorite books and I’ll read that so we can discuss that?”

“You’d reciprocate?”

“Of course. You’re doing me a favor--”

“Your family wouldn’t reciprocate. How often did you do something for them and receive anything in return?”

“I…” Lorenz paused and searched his memory. “I’m sure I was rewarded for my good behavior.”

“There’s a difference between reward and reciprocation,” Claude said. “They didn’t, did they? Whenever you asked them for a favor, they treated it like it was a burden or stupid?”

“What’s your point?”

“You’re different from them,” Lorenz said. “You’re breaking the Gloucester mold. You’re  _ not _ a bad person, because you’re being considerate of my time and feelings.”

Lorenz wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Claude…”

“I have a new goal,” Claude said and pressed a quick, careful kiss to Loernz’s cheek. “I want to help you.”

“Help me?”

Claude nodded. “You’ve been done a massive amount of harm and have covered it all up with bandages made of pride, stubbornness, and your belief in your noble obligations. But that just let all the wounds fester. I want to help you unwind those bandages and expose those wounds so that you can begin to heal. But, I can only do that if  _ you _ are willing to start the healing process. Do you think you can do that? It’s going to hurt.”

“I am familiar with pain.”

“Not this kind. Please? Let me help you?”

Lorenz sighed. “I  _ did _ resolve to let you in on my secrets, although it was admittedly with the intent to drive you away.”

“You have been unsuccessful with every attempt, so I suggest you stop thinking you’re going to do that.”

Lorenz snorted. “So it seems.” Lorenz steeled himself and extended the book to Claude, even if he could see himself visibly trembling. “I...I trust you.”

Claude took it with something like reverence and ran his finger along the edges of the battered and yellowed pages and broken-in spine. “Thank you, Lorenz.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I’ll look to see if the library has a copy of my favorite Fodlanese book. As far as I know, my  _ absolute _ favorite hasn’t been translated from Almyran, so...perhaps you and I can translate it together? I can use it as a teaching tool. I don’t have it with me, but I’m sure I’ll be able to secure a copy once we’re in Almyra.”

Lorenz felt something like  _ hope _ struggle to surface in his heart. “That would be...delightful.”

Claude’s smile was like the sun, and chased away the clinging darkness in his mind. 

“I enjoy your smile,” Lorenz caught himself saying before he could silence the admission. 

“Do you now?” Claude asked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lorenz  _ hated _ that he blushed, and cleared his throat in discomfort. “I’m...sorry. For everything. Mornings are when I’m least able to corral my emotions.”

Claude shook his head. “Don’t apologize for feeling things. It’s better to experience them and work through them than shove them down.”

“...really?”

“Yes, really.”

“You Almyrans are strange.”

“No, you Fodlanese nobles are  _ incredibly _ repressed,” Claude said and caught himself as he leaned in, shifting to press another kiss to Lorenz’s cheek. It was a way of saying  _ I love you _ without actually saying it, and Lorenz was flustered and flattered that Claude would find a way to communicate the emotion in the face of having agreed to not say it outright.

“How are you feeling now?” Claude asked as he cautiously leaned against Lorenz, resting his head on Lorenz’s shoulder. 

“Confused. Conflicted,” Lorenz said after a moment of reflection. “But I have been feeling that way since you confessed to being attracted to me, so that’s nothing new.”

“Can you tell me what I can do whenever you go all quiet and still like you did earlier? It was...concerning, and I want to make sure I can take care of you if it happens in less safe surroundings.”

“I can still function while like that, but you’ll have to be explicit in what you want me to do. I’ll follow any order given to me.”

Claude muttered something in Almyran, then spoke up in Fodlanese, “Okay. Understood. Hey, think you could read to me? Start off the novel. I want to see how you would interpret it. Can you do voices?”

“I’m a poet, not an actor,” Lorenz said, but took the book back from Claude, who promptly threaded his arm through Lorenz’s and leaned against him a little more snuggly. It could  _ almost _ be called clinging, but Lorenz didn’t feel trapped by it. Lorenz opened the novel to the first page of the true story and began to read. He continued until the sun fully broached the horizon and Claude’s stomach growled in hunger.

“Your body definity has a schedule,” Lorenz commented dryly as he closed the book.

“Apparently unlike you,” Claude murmured.

“I should get ready, anyway. I agreed to spar with Caspar today, and I’d rather spar on an empty stomach.”

“Probably smart, in case he gets past your guard,” Claude admitted.

“Do you want to watch us spar, or do you have other things to attend to?”

“...can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I am just as possessive as you are, just...less physically aggressive about it,” Claude muttered. “So, if you get hurt, Caspar might end up with  _ intense gastric distress _ later.”

Lorenz hated how his heart skipped a beat, because that was  _ far _ more flattering than it had any right to be. “You’d really be that upset?”

“Of course!” Claude said before blinking, then scowling. “When you care for another person, you  _ tend _ to worry about their health and well-being. Usually it doesn’t extend to being petty about someone else inflicting at worst  _ discomfort _ on the other person, but just as far as caring for the person in the aftermath and helping them with any lingering effects. I just...don’t want or like to see  _ you _ hurt. Even if it’s just sparring. It’s abnormal for someone to willfully and deliberately inflict harm on the person they are involved with. Well, unless the other person is  _ really _ into it.”

“...there are people who  _ want _ to be hurt?” Lorenz asked, curious and incredulous in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, some people get a sexual or emotional high off of hurting another or being hurt,” Claude said. “If they’re doing it ethically, though, there’s...a  _ lot _ of discussion and setting of boundaries and whatnot beforehand.”

“...peculiar.”

“It’s obviously not for everyone, and given how afraid you are of hurting me and how much pain you suffered, I don’t think we’d ever have that conversation,” Claude said. “I’m guessing that wasn’t part of your sexual education?”

Lorenz shook his head. “I was instructed about sexual intercouse between a man and woman only.”

“Sheesh,” Claude said and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, at least  _ I _ know about--uh, things that we’re definitely not going to discuss any time soon.”

“You want to have sex with me?” Lorenz asked, curious in spite of himself.

Claude rubbed his temples. “No, I want to  _ make love  _ with you. Remember? You agreed to use that term.”

“May I again  _ strongly _ suggest you give up on me? I won’t have sex--make love--with you unless we’re married, and I doubt the Almyran people would be pleased to have you return from your trip to Fodlan with a husband. You seem more...open...about sex than I am anyway. You’d be better off finding someone who would be able to tend to those needs.”

Claude took a deep breath, seemed to reconsider what he had been about to say, and let it out in a heavy sigh. “But I don’t want anyone else. And I can tend to myself until I convince you to marry me.”

“ _ Pardon _ ?”

“...shit. Did I say that out loud?”

“You...you want to  _ marry _ me? Even knowing what my family is like? Knowing how many sharp edges I have?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Claude groaned into his hands. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that yet. Can you forget I said it?”

“...no, not really.”

“Please?”

“I’ll consider it a slip of the tongue and lapse in judgement,” Lorenz said. “You’ll probably change your mind anyway after spending a few days at the Manse and subjected to the hostility of my family. Because I am  _ awful _ at subtlety, I am sure they’ll be able to pick up on…on how my feelings towards you have changed. Can you let go so I can change?”

Claude released his hold on Lorenz and grumbled to himself in Almyran, pinching the bridge of his nose--he was probably admonishing himself for being so...sloppy. It was strangely endearing.

Lorenz pulled out his practice clothing, and heard Claude get up. “Wait for me, please? I want to come with you.”

“What? Really?” Lorenz said as he stuck his head through his shirt. “I thought you didn’t want to.”

“I nearly had a heart-attack when I heard you had sparred with  _ Catherine _ ,” Claude admitted. “So I think I’d rather be on-hand than imaging all the terrible things that could be going wrong.”

“Claude, I’m not the  _ best _ physical fighter, but I still have  _ some _ amount of skill.”

“I know, and I rely on that skill,” Claude said. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t think of five different ways how a  _ sparring accident  _ could occur that would end with you seriously hurt and without me to attend to you. I’d also like to be there to cheer you on. Might provide you with a little more motivation, yes?”

“If that’s what you want,” Lorenz said. He caught Claude’s hand before he could leave, then pressed a careful kiss to it; even after they had kissed in the stables, Lorenz didn’t think he’d seen Claude ever blush so furiously. Lorenz let Claude’s hand go, and Claude reflexively drew it close to his chest, covering the place where Lorenz had kissed with his other hand.

“I, uh, do want that. To come with you. As in  _ attend the spar. _ Damn, I hate my brain. I’ll be right back.”

Lorenz watched Claude leave, bemused. 

_ He wants to marry me, _ Lorenz thought as he finished dressing for the spar and sat down in his chair, running his fingers through his hair.  _ He’s dealt with my father, has seen me at my weakest and worst, and yet...he wants to  _ marry _ me. Why would he choose me, knowing all the pain that comes part and parcel with me? _

It was confusing on many different levels, but also left him feeling...hopeful? That someone would bind their life to him in spite of his failings. If  _ Claude _ would do that...surely someone else would, as well? 

_ Except...I  _ like _ the idea of Claude?  _ Lorenz admitted to himself grudgingly.  _ For all that he pokes at evil things in my heart, I… _

Claude had  _ clearly  _ forgotten how thin the walls were, because Lorenz heard him ranting in Almyran, in a tone that Lorenz instantly recognized as self-admonishment. He caught a word every now and then, and gradually felt...almost a little guilty. Claude was being unnecessarily harsh on himself. So, he moved over to their shared wall, hesitated for a millisecond, then shook his head and called out, “I’m not  _ upset _ , you know. About you saying you want to marry me. I was raised to expect marriage, not love, so it’s actually extremely flattering to know that someone would  _ want _ to marry me in spite of all my...imperfections.”

There was an almost  _ embarrassed _ pause before Claude said, more loudly, which meant he probably was closer to the wall, “Really?”

“Yes, Claude,” Lorenz said, unable to stop the exasperated affection in his voice. “It might help you to remember that I expect things in the reverse order you do. Love grows as a result of marriage, it is not the impetus.”

Lorenz caught a  _ heavy _ sigh from Claude. “Right. Well, I’m glad to know what  _ won’t _ upset you.”

Lorenz’s feeling of guilt deepened. “I don’t mean to--”

“No, I know,” Claude interrupted. “It’s just...a challenge, working around what you’ve been conditioned to believe. I can do it, though.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But, Lorenz...”

“Yes?”

“You’re worth it.”

Lorenz leaned his forehead against the wall and sighed.  _ You’re the only one to think that. _

“I’m almost ready, so you can gather whatever else you need and meet me outside?” Claude said in the face of Lorenz’s silence.

“Okay,” Lorenz responded. He didn’t  _ have _ anything else to collect, so left his room, locking it behind him, and leaned against the opposite wall. When Claude left his own room, he seemed torn between apprehensive and resolute, so Lorenz offered his hand. Claude looked between it and Lorenz’s face, then cautiously intertwined their fingers. Lorenz gave Claude what he  _ hoped _ was an encouraging smile and tugged him along until he fell into step beside him. The stairs were a bit of a narrow fit, so his arm went around Claude’s waist instead of holding his hand, and Claude seemed to reflexively lean into his body, his own hand resting lightly on Lorenz’s opposite hip. 

“I’m glad you don’t mind me touching you and holding hands and stuff,” Claude murmured, his face a little darker than usual.

“I remember you telling me that you like being touched, and this costs me nothing. It’s a bit  _ odd _ to me, but not...it doesn’t nudge at anything unworthy in me.”

“Good,” Claude said. “Although I’m not convinced there’s  _ anything _ unworthy about you.”

Lorenz frowned. “You wouldn’t consider what I did to you yesterday in the stables  _ unworthy _ ? I wanted to strip you, mark every inch of you as mine, and I  _ really _ didn’t care if someone else saw because then they’d know you were mine.”

Claude’s face darkened further. “Damnit, Lorenz, don’t tell me such things unless you plan to follow through.”

Lorenz stopped, and Claude lurched a little before finding his balance. 

“Lorenz?”

“You...would  _ like _ that?”

“Um,” Claude said, and rubbed his cheek with his free hand. “So, for the majority of my life, people have either been terrified of me or hated me. Even with the few consensual intimate relationships I’ve had, there was always a bit of fear and distance in their eyes, either because I am royalty or Fodlanese. They also never...never would let me hold their hands or embrace them or whatnot because they didn’t want it to be common knowledge that they were involved with me. So, you talking about claiming me and marking me and also holding my hand and not being ashamed or covert about it feels really nice. Because in claiming me, you’d also make it obvious that you’re  _ with _ me, and that you don’t feel the need to hide that is...”

Lorenz shook his head slowly and nudged Claude into walking with him again. “As I said, it costs me nothing to hold your hand. If anything, it only increases  _ my _ esteem. You  _ are _ a King, and yet you’ve chosen a Count, which is quite a few steps below your own position. I am elevated by your affection for me.” 

Lorenz was also  _ angry _ with the unknown and unnamed former lovers for hurting Claude like that, and hoped for their sakes that he never came across them. They’d get a taste of what a full-blooded Fodlanese could do if he did, and no one would ever find their bodies.

“Lorenz,” Claude said, putting enough pressure to his cheek with his fingertips to make Lorenz turn his head and attention to Claude.

“Yes?”

“While I find your anger  _ incredibly _ flattering, I’ve moved on from them. Well, mostly. So, you don’t need to feel compelled to do anything.”

“They hurt you,” Lorenz said more tersely than he intended. “Which is unacceptable to me. If you truly wish to protect them, then refrain from telling me who they are or pointing them out to me when we are in Almyra. I have  _ excellent _ control over the temperature of my Fire spell, I’ll have you know.”

“...I’m not sure if I’m more aroused or terrified when you’re like this,” Claude muttered, but perversely held on tighter to Lorenz. “I shouldn’t like that you’d hurt someone on my behalf.”

“When all your life, you’ve been the one being hurt, having someone else willing to inflict the same kind of pain on your enemies is both novel and flattering, I’d imagine,” Lorenz said, no longer attempting to hide the growl of indignation in his voice. He pulled Claude closer and pressed a quick kiss to his temple. 

“It won’t do you any good to make enemies on my behalf,” Claude pointed out.

“You saw me at work during the treaty negotiations,” Lorenz pointed out. “I am capable of separating politics from my personal feelings. Not that I wouldn’t go out of my way to embarrass them as thoroughly as possible afterwards…”

Claude chuckled softly at that.

They arrived at the training grounds to find Caspar already there, stretching. He caught sight of them both and waved. “Will Claude be joining us, too?”

“No, I’m here to watch,” Claude said and reluctantly let go of Lorenz. 

“Oh, okay,” Caspar said, sounding mildly disappointed to have only one opponent instead of two. “Hey, so I saw you use your magic when fighting Catherine, and I want you to go all out with me, too! No holding back, okay?”

“Very well,” Lorenz said, mildly incredulous. Caspar had always had a noted weakness to magic, but if the man said to use his magic, he would. It would let him keep even more distance; thankfully, Caspar chose to use an axe instead of the barbaric fist-weapons. Lorenz could never fathom why someone would want to be  _ that _ close to another as they died. The intimacy of that kind of death would be horrifying. 

Caspar let Lorenz work through some stretches and a warm up before they found their way to the sparring ring. 

“Remember, no holding back, because I won’t be!” Caspar said with ferocious cheer. After that statement, he charged. 

Lorenz was on  _ much _ more even footing with Caspar than Catherine. Caspar was the physically stronger between them, but they were more-or-less evenly matched with speed. While Caspar  _ did _ land a few lucky hits that left Lorenz staggering and wincing, it was Caspar’s notable weakness to magic that allowed Lorenz to eventually claim victory. 

Bizarrely, the younger man laughed once he had finally recovered from rapid and successive hits to his chest by Lorenz’s spells. He got to his feet, wiped some sweat from his face, and said, “You’re better than I remember. How’d you get to being able to keep your weapon out while using magic? No one else I’ve fought has been able to do that.”

“Excessive amounts of practice, training, and discipline,” Lorenz said, and took the towel offered to him--from the cinnamon-like scent that wafted over to him, it was Claude who had provided the cloth to him. “Shadow--my stallion--was very patient with me as I learned how to do so.”

“Still, that’s super impressive,” Caspar said, still breathing a little hard.

“If you hadn’t allowed magic, you may have won,” Lorenz offered as consolation, although the grin Caspar was wearing said it was unnecessary, as was how he waved his hand dismissively.

“Clearly this just means we should spar again,” Caspar said. “But, I think the classes will need this space. You gonna be heading out soon? My feet are getting itchy in spite of how much I’ve enjoyed seein’ everyone again.”

“I will be leaving in a day or so,” Lorenz said. “So I don’t know if we would be able to schedule another spar.”

Caspar looked crestfallen. “That’s too bad.”

“If you ever come by Gloucester territory, I would be happy to spar with you again,” Lorenz said. “Although I will be going to Almyra soon, so--”

“Almyra? I haven’t traveled there yet,” Caspar said, perking up and looking to Claude. “Is the border now open?”

“Free travel is allowed, yes,” Claude said. “I’d be careful, though, if I were you. There’s still a lot of prejudice against the Fodlanese, particularly farther away from the border. That’s why Lorenz is going to be my ambassador--I hope to use him to show my people that Fodlanese  _ aren’t _ demons.”

“What? They think we’re  _ demons _ ?” Caspar exclaimed. 

“Magic is unheard of among native Almyrans,” Claude explained. “So, your lack of magic might actually serve you well, show that you’re just as human as they are…”

“That settles it, then! I’ll make sure to travel all around Almyra and show the people there that Fodlanese people aren’t demons!” Caspar said with conviction. 

“You can travel with us, then, for at least some of the way to the Almyran capital,” Lorenz offered. “I have to stop by my home first to ensure matters are in order, but we can meet you in Goneril territory? I think it would be safer to at least  _ begin _ your travels in the presence of Almyrans, since I imagine we’ll have an Almyran escort?”

Claude nodded. “Nader and a portion of the royal guard are waiting in a small fortress not far from Fodlan’s Throat. It’s not well staffed because the Fodlanese were content to stay on their side of the border, but there’s enough to keep them occupied. Nader  _ really _ likes having drinking competitions with Holst, even if he does complain about how often he’s lost.”

“Not so undefeated in drinking contests, huh?” Caspar joked, which prompted Claude to chuckle.

“No, not at all,” Claude confirmed. “So, will you be traveling with us?”

“How long do you think it’ll take you to get stuff in order at your home?” Caspar asked, directing the question to Lorenz.

“A week at longest, although likely less,” Lorenz said. “It takes two to three days to get to the Gloucester Manse from here, so, on the long side...three days to the Manse, seven days there, 10 days from the Manse to Fodlan’s Throat. So, 20 days maximum.”

“Jeeze, that’s a long time,” Caspar said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t think I can wait that long.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from traveling around the rest of Fodlan in the interim,” Lorenz pointed out. “Just be at Fodlan’s Throat...about 16 days from when I leave.”

“Why 16 when you said 20?”

“Because 20 is if everything takes too long, while 16 is if I get through everything quickly and travel is easy and swift.”

“Aha. Okay, that makes sense. I’ll tell Linhardt, because he’ll remember even if I don’t. He’s gotten better about complaining about how much  _ effort _ it is to travel with me, so he won’t be too much of a bother.”

“I’m impressed,” Claude said. 

“I think he’s resigned himself to it more than anything,” Caspar said, a sheepish smile flickering across his face. “I’ll see you around the Monastery until you leave, though. Felix is giving us the death-glare because we’re taking up space when his classes are supposed to start.”

“Very well,” Lorenz said, nodding slightly. “Thank you for the spar, and take care.”

“Yeah, you, too,” Caspar said, and they parted ways.

“So, where to now?” Claude asked once they had left the practice arena. 

“Well, I’d like a bath before I head to the dining hall,” Lorenz said. “No need to subject people to the scent of my sweat nor to be uncomfortable with my clothes drying as I eat.”

“Oh, a  _ bath _ , huh?”

Lorenz looked to Claude, not liking his tone. “Claude?”

“You know, I should take a bath, too,” Claude said and gave Lorenz a sinister smirk as he took Lorenz’s hand. “We can go together.”

“...you do not have permission to do to me what I did to you,” Lorenz said as he started walking to the dorms to get his regular clothes. “After all, you have no need to practice Fodlanese or Almyran.”

“No, but I can  _ quiz _ you,” Claude said. “So you  _ have _ to let me wash you so I can quiz you on the correct words for the parts of the body.”

“You’re not allowed to touch me... _ intimately _ ,” Lorenz said, eyes narrowing. “After all, I never did, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Claude affirmed. “You were just stupidly suggestive about it all,” he continued in a grumble. “This isn’t the way to the baths.”

“No, but I don’t want to change into sweaty clothes after cleaning myself,” Lorenz said. “So, we have to pick up normal clothes first.”

“Makes sense,” Claude said. 

“...what’s wrong?” Lorenz said after they’d walked in silence for a little bit.

“Nothing's wrong.”

“Something is.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re holding on tightly.”

Claude snorted and relaxed his grip on Lorenz’s hand slightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Caspar didn’t hit me  _ that _ hard.”

“Didn’t mean that.”

“You mean, any lingering effects from the early morning?”

“Yeah,” Claude admitted. “It was…” he sighed. “I was scared. I was...helpless.”

“I’m comparatively fine now,” Lorenz said. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t...retreated...in over a decade. The last time I did that was, ah…”

“A bad memory?”

Lorenz sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. “Naturally. It’s a coping mechanism, and a poor one at that, but...” he ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair. “I found my magic by going inside myself. There is...one book I read whose author experienced the same thing I did described it as an ‘inner temple.’ I suppose because of my avid reading habit, I gained a bit of an overactive imagination and ability to visualize otherwise abstract things. So my...where the core of my magic lies is almost a physical place to me.”

“What’s it like?” Claude asked, his curiosity innocent. 

Lorenz waffled for a long time, then spoke when they reached the entrance to the dorms: “It’s a graveyard.”

Claue frowned sharply, confusing clouding his eyes. “A graveyard?”

“I told you--I’m a fair hand at visualization. The things I don’t want to remember are buried there. Since it’s close to my magic, I can bleed off some of that power to make them stay down until they decay as a result of time and, well, stubbornness.”

“I must admit I’ve never heard of magic being used that way.”

“I’m sure it’s not  _ supposed _ to be used so,” Lorenz said and unlocked his door. “I just...I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of in the pursuit of perfection and  _ not _ remembering them and my own savagery is what allows me to stay...ethical.”

Claude was quiet, but in a  _ thoughtful _ way, and ducked into his room to get new undergarments as Lorenz found his day-clothes and cosmetics. When he exited, it was to find a rather troubled-looking Claude. 

“You do know that I’m going to ask you to unearth some of those graves,” Claude said, catching and holding Lorenz’s eyes. “Those memories deserve a dignified burial, not a hurried interment meant to just conceal and control. Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

Lorenz swallowed hard. “I don’t know. But...I suppose it’s worth trying. Just don’t expect me to remain calm.”

“Of course not,” Claude said and offered Lorenz his arm. “Given how you react each time I accidentally hit one of your traumas, I’m expecting more than a little violence.”

Lorenz grimaced. “I don’t mean to…”

“How did your mother or father react to a, uh, situation that upset them? I doubt they just breathed through it and dealt with it like adults.”

Lorenz thought as they walked. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, or don’t want to remember?”

“...both?”

“Figured,” Claude sighed.

“Is there...is there  _ nothing _ I can do for you? This feels distinctly unfair.”

“What about it is unfair?”

“You’re going to likely put yourself in harm’s way and I’m doing...basically  _ nothing _ to assist  _ you _ . Surely there must be something.”

“I’m just running up your debt,” Claude said with a wry smile. “There’s going to be  _ plenty _ I’ll need your help with once we get back to Almyra. I’m going to be leaning on your strength  _ a lot _ .”

“If you say so,” Lorenz said and brought their conjoined hands up to his lips to press a gentle kiss to Claude’s. “I will happily be your strength when you need it. Trust me, I plan on achieving fluency in Almyran just so I can eviscerate your foes with their own words.”

Claude snorted, his face slightly flushed and a faint smile on his lips. “I look forward to it.”

Their arrival to the bathhouse once again cleared out the antechamber, which made Lorenz sigh and Claude choke on a snicker. 

“It seems that we’ve gained a reputation,” Claude semi-teased as he stripped and tossed his clothes in a cabinet. 

“Indeed,” Lorenz drawled as he removed his own clothes. “A part of me can’t believe I was so  _ forward _ , while another is inordinately pleased at how flustered I made you.”

“Like I told you yesterday, I  _ still _ am plagued by the occasional memory of you being a delightful asshole,” Claude said with a wink and entered the bath section ahead of Lorenz. 

Lorenz shook his head and finished stripping out of his sparring clothes, and entered the bath with his cosmetics in hand. He didn’t like the neutral scent that Garreg Mach stocked. Claude was already drawing water, and gestured for Lorenz to take a seat, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. While the antechamber had cleared, some male students remained in the baths and sauna, pointedly ignoring the two of them, although he did catch more than one face wearing a potent blush.

“Remember, nothing  _ inappropriate _ ,” Lorenz said and handed his hair oil and soap to Claude before sitting down on the indicated stool. 

“Of course, Your Grace,” Claude said smoothly. Claude tested the temperature of the water, then picked up the three-quarters full bucket and carefully poured it over Lorenz’s head and shoulders; Lorenz had to work not to shiver, and not from the temperature. 

“We’ll start your review now,” Claude said, and he rested his forearm against Lorenz’s shoulder from behind as he presumably poured some of the oil into his waiting palm; Lorenz heard him place the bottle on the floor. “What’s the word for hair?”

Lorenz had to work a little to remember it, since  _ that _ had been a word he had learned when he was being a dick, and thus less focused. Eventually, he spoke it, albeit with a slight upward inflection at the end as a spoken question mark. 

“Very good!” Claude said, and Lorenz hated that such simple praise made him feel warm. The gentle tug on his hair as Claude carefully and thoroughly worked the oil in and the scent of roses helped to soothe the last ragged edges of the morning, and Lorenz  _ felt _ his shoulders drop. 

“Why don’t I teach you a few new words, too?” Claude offered. “Bath-related things. So, in Almyran--”

Lorenz had a hard time focusing on what Claude was saying when his touch was so damn  _ delightful _ , careful and considerate, and it took Claude saying his name multiple times to catch his attention.

“Hm?”

“I asked what the word for head was,” Claude said, good humor lacing his tone.

Lorenz responded with it, and Claude’s affirmation of “Correct!” made Lorenz want to squirm in...something that might be called happiness.

Claude laughed, the sound low and affectionate. “If I knew it was this easy to make you smile, I’d never stop praising you.”

Lorenz hadn’t even realized he was smiling, and covered his face in embarrassment. “You’re not allowed to abuse this knowledge. You  _ also _ aren’t allowed to tickle me.”

“Drat,” Claude said, his disappointment insincere. He picked up the half-filled bucket and, using his hand to keep the water out of Lorenz’s eyes, carefully rinsed the product out of Lorenz’s hair. He had to do it a few times, given Lorenz’s hair was a bit longer, but once he was done, Claude asked, “Stand up for me?”

Lorenz hummed acquiescence and did so as Claude retrieved a washcloth and picked up Lorenz’s soap.

“Remember, nothing suggestive,” Lorenz half-warned. 

“Unlike what you did, I want to admire you while I wash you,” Claude said and rested the washcloth at the dip between Lorenz’s collarbones. “And quiz you on your Almyran, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Almyran has two words for  _ heart _ , you know,” Claude said as he began to wash Lorenz. “One for the emotional/spiritual heart and one for the physical organ.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm,” Claude confirmed. 

“Perhaps it is more of a poetic language than I gave it credit for,” Lorenz murmured. “Are we going to continue to review, or are you going to merely stare?”

“Maybe if you weren’t so attractive it would be easier to concentrate,” Claude pseudo-scolded, although his smile belayed his words.

“That is through no fault of mine,” Lorenz said archly, and Claude didn’t restrain a chuckle. 

“Fine. What’s the word for chest?”

To Lorenz’s relief, Claude’s hands only went as far as his hips on his front, although he was considerate enough to make sure enough soap dripped down to at least give his private some semblance of cleaning--Lorenz would take care of that himself later--before rinsing Lorenz off with enough care that it was almost physically painful. 

Lorenz stumbled over the word for elbow, but Claude’s correction was gentle and almost  _ teasing _ , so the budding anxiety over getting an answer wrong smoothed out. Claude’s obvious staring, how his calloused fingertips would trace the lines of Lorenz’s musculature--his upper body wasn’t quite as developed as Claude’s, but lances weren’t exactly  _ light _ weapons--was...gratifying. When he washed Lorenz’s back, it felt more like a gentle massage, and Lorenz couldn’t help the occasional sighs of pain and relief that escaped him from time to time. 

“Carry all your tension in your shoulders and back, huh?” Claude murmured, and Lorenz felt the lightest brush of Claude’s lips against the back of his neck, just below his hairline. He decided that it wasn’t worth it to call Claude out on the small gesture, so responded: “Seems that way.”

However, the moment Claude’s hands drifted further down his back than his waist, cold dread gripped his spine and he reached back and grabbed Claude’s wrist, stopping him.

“Please don’t,” Lorenz said, his voice tight and strained. 

“Okay,” Claude said and moved his hands back up; immediately relief washed through Lorenz. Claude wasn’t going to hurt him.

_ Why would I think he’d hurt me? _ Lorenz distantly wondered as Claude walked back around to Lorenz’s front, concern in his eyes. 

“You okay, love? Er, Lorenz? Is there anywhere else I shouldn’t touch?”

Lorenz hesitated. “Aside from where you’ve already avoided? No, I don’t think so. I--”

“No need to apologize,” Claude said. “Although I do confess to being a little sad. I had hoped I could pinch your butt on the sly and make you blush.”

Lorenz coughed, then shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t make me blush, that would...well, I don’t think it would be a  _ good _ reaction.”

“Got it. But everywhere else is a-ok?”

“Yes.”

“Right. You’ll have to wash yourself there, then. Want to keep on reviewing?”

Lorenz nodded and Claude moved to rinse off Lorenz’s back, having Lorenz name the structures he rinsed off. Once complete, Claude moved back to Lorenz’s front, knelt down so he was sitting on his heels, then propped Lorenz’s foot on his thigh and began to start washing again.

“What’s the word for  _ leg _ , again?” Claude asked, keeping his voice somehow both soothing and casual. 

Lorenz searched his memory, then offered what he was fairly sure was the correct word.

“Very good!” Claude praised with a smile, and Lorenz felt the remnants of tension drain away. Lorenz couldn’t  _ quite _ help himself, so reached out and gently carded his fingers through Claude’s hair as he worked. 

“I’ve noticed you like playing with my hair,” Claude said. 

“It’s...nice,” Lorenz said, the other adjectives his brain presented him with all lending themselves to innuendo. 

“Just nice?” Claude said, frowning as he looked up; however, he promptly smiled upon seeing Lorenz’s expression. “Oh, you’re  _ trying _ to  _ not _ flirt with me, huh?”

“Quiet,” Lorenz grumbled, the admonishment insincere. “Will you need--”

“No, you’re not helping me,” Claude cut in. “Once I’m done rinsing you off, you’ll wash what I didn’t, and then go sit in the hot pool. I’ll join you once I’ve cleaned myself.”

Lorenz’s eyebrows raised slightly. “As you command, Your Royal Majesty.”

Claude smirked. 

It didn’t take much longer until Claude finished cleaning what Lorenz would allow him to touch, and as Claude was gathering some Monastery-provided cleaning supplies, Lorenz washed his genitals and glutes, rinsed himself off, then wandered over to the hot pool. There was one other occupant, who had what Lorenz assumed was a cold towel over his eyes, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the warmth. Lorenz left him alone, finding a seat as far away as possible and sinking down to the top of his shoulders, resting the back of his head against the lip of the pool. He paused, thought, then turned so his arms were crossed on the edge, rested his chin on them, and settled down to enjoy the view of Claude washing himself. 

The other man  _ clearly _ felt his gaze, given that he looked towards Lorenz; his face promptly flushed and he looked quickly away. 

_ Well, he spent the entire time washing me ogling me, I am allowed to look, too, _ Lorenz justified to himself. Claude was almost like a work of art, soap suds highlighting the dips and curves of his solid, muscular form. There was poetry in how the water flowed down his body, and beauty in his scars. Lorenz wanted to know the stories behind the most marked ones and kiss away any lingering painful memories. 

The whispers of  _ mine _ that had been silenced by his panic earlier came back, but there was a tentative, questioning feeling to them. 

_ And then there’s the question of where the fear of Claude hurting  _ me _ came from, _ Lorenz thought, his eyes following a rivulet of water that worked its way between Claude’s shoulderblades to the cleft of his buttocks. Claude had surprisingly well-developed legs, but that probably came from having to hold on to his wyvern while it performed feats of acrobatics that would now likely send Lorenz’s heart to this throat.  _ Goddess, he’s beautiful. _

Lorenz blinked, then sighed silently and ran his fingers through his hair.  _ Okay, Lorenz, was that an ‘I find Claude aesthetically pleasing’ or ‘I find Claude attractive’? _

He had found plenty of people a pleasure to look at, but there had never been the itch in his hands to learn their form by tracing it with his fingers before. He wanted to feel the solid muscle beneath Claude’s skin, find where old wounds cut naked swaths through body hair, discover exactly where was sensitive on Claude’s body and--

“Please stop looking at me like that,” Claude said, his voice strangely weak, his face dark with a blush. 

Lorenz quirked an eyebrow. “And how am I looking at you?”

Claude made a frustrated sound, then dumped water on himself, finishing rinsing himself off. He made his way over to the pool and slid in beside Lorenz, flinching slightly at the temperature before settling. 

“Didn’t feel like yelling across the room,” Claude muttered and Lorenz turned to face him, one arm still resting on the edge while the other shifted into the water. Claude rubbed his face vigorously, then took a breath and whispered, “You were looking at me like I was something...exquisite.”

“Perhaps because you  _ are _ ?” Lorenz pseudo-asked. “You’re an attractive man, Claude.”

Claude looked to Lorenz, his face still fairly dark and he continued in a whisper, “I’m not being clear, I suppose. You were watching me as if mesmerized. Like you had seen  _ nothing _ like me before. Your eyes drank me in, and it was...both invasive and pleasing. I felt--feel-- _ desired _ . I know you’ve told me you want to claim me and possess me and the like, but…”

Lorenz slid his fingers under Claude’s chin to gently cup his jaw and he replied in the same hushed tone, “You are brilliant, Claude. No poetry could ever fully capture how truly remarkable and--as you said-- _ exquisite _ you are. Any artist’s depiction of you would be a pale imitation of your magnificence.”

Claude swallowed hard. “I’d normally laugh at such a bad line, but coming from you it’s actually sincere, and I  _ really like it _ ,” he said with an almost  _ shy _ smile. 

“Of course it’s sincere,” Lorenz said and removed his hand to lightly tap the tip of Claude’s nose. “I would never lie about how handsome you are. Although if you think  _ that _ line is bad, I am never showing you my poetry.”

“Oh, come  _ on _ ,” Claude protested. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s perfectly fair.”

Claude attempted to sulk, but the smile that was struggling to not appear on his face ruined the effect. “Do you have anyone else to meet or something to do?” Claude asked.

Lorenz shook his head, water droplets flying off the ends of his hair at the movement. “I have nothing scheduled for the morning. I was thinking about meeting up with Alois, though.”

“Alois? Why?” 

“Well, while I trust you and your protection, it  _ might _ be good for me to have a household and escort from Fodlan. Caspar will likely leave as soon as he comes across the first town of any size or interest, and the ambassadors to Sreng and Dagda have their own small contingent of Knights and domestic servants. Being in a foreign country is challenging as it is, it would be good to have  _ some _ aspect of home, particularly if home is far away.”

Claude considered what Lorenz said and nodded slightly. “Okay, that makes sense. The Almyran ambassador I chose has children who plan to attend the Officer’s Academy, and I think they also brought protection for the road. It would be foolish and, frankly, inconsiderate for me to not extend the same to you. I suppose I just enjoy the idea of traveling with you  _ alone _ ...”

“When we get to the Almyran capital and after I settle in, you can take me on as many trips as you want, just the two of us,” Lorenz said. “I believe you once said you wanted to show me all that your country has to offer, and I intend to take you up on that.”

Claude’s smile made Lorenz want to reflexively smile back, but he had too much pride to do that. He had appearances to maintain, after all. 

“I do have a tea planned with Hilda and Marianne, but that is in the afternoon. So, perhaps, after we finish settling matters with Alois and the Knights...would you like to play a game of chess?”

Claude seemed temporarily at a loss for words before saying, “I’d love to.”

“You simply have to promise to tolerate my sulking if I lose.”

Claude snorted at that. “You can’t possibly sulk any worse than I do when I play against my mother. I’m  _ good _ and she still manages to trounce me every time.”

Lorenz chuckled. “I look forward to meeting her.”

_ Assuming she doesn’t immediately hate me because I look like my father, _ Lorenz internally amended at Claude’s hesitation.

“I’m sure once she gets to know you that she will lo--er, appreciate you as well.”

“Is it really that hard to  _ not _ say?”

Claude sunk down slightly in the water, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes.”

“Then you can say it.”

Claude looked over to him quickly enough that Lorenz’s neck twinged. “Pardon?”

“It’s not that I  _ dislike _ hearing it,” Lorenz said. “I suppose...it simply doesn’t sink in like you want it to.”

_ And I fear that I’m on the precipice of saying it back to you, _ Lorenz thought.  _ And that is mildly terrifying. _

Lorenz didn’t expect to suddenly have an armful of Almyran King, and compulsively embraced Claude back, holding him close, breathing him and his presence in. 

“Thank you,” Claude whispered in his ear before pulling back and placing a kiss on Lorenz’s forehead. “Now, come. I feel like I’m  _ cooking _ , I have no idea how you can tolerate the heat like you do. No, perhaps that’s wrong. The heat of the water is nothing compared to how hot you are,” Claude finished with a wink and coy smirk as he heaved himself out of the pool. 

Lorenz huffed an affectionate sigh, and followed Claude after allowing himself to admire Claude as he left. The man really did take good care of his body, and he  _ still _ wanted to know the story behind his tattoo. Maybe now that they were closer, he wouldn’t feel so awkward about asking?

Lorenz exited the pool and picked up a towel as he entered the sauna area and dried himself off, and leaned over a drain to wring out his hair. 

“Hate that I can’t smack your butt,” Claude grumbled to himself. “Oh, well.”

“Claude,” Lorenz semi-chided.

“What? You have a nice butt. Very smackable looking.”

“You are not being subtle.”

“True.”

Lorenz shook his head disparagingly, all the while  _ knowing _ he was blushing. He dried himself off, then returned to the antechamber to change into his clothes; again, he had the  _ distinct _ feeling that he walked in on a conversation, based upon the startled-deer looks he received from the students. He gave them all an imperious nod and set about changing into his clothes, deliberately and politely ignoring them all. 

“Um...sir?”

Lorenz finished buttoning his shirt and turned to the speaker--one of the students, unremarkable-looking and with Fodlanese coloration, so he was probably Crest-less and either minor nobility or a commoner. “Yes?”

“Could you two, like... _ not _ ? It makes people uncomfortable.”

Lorenz paused to formulate his response, since the young man  _ did _ have at least somewhat of a point. “I will keep that in mind, and apologize if my behavior made you feel uncomfortable, but you should consider it merely another aspect of your education. As you are being trained here to be a leader, it is highly likely that you will have to tolerate people and situations that make you distinctly  _ uncomfortable _ in the future _. _ At least, in these surroundings, you are safe and the worst you can suffer is embarrassment. You shall survive that.”

“Or maybe you’re jealous?” Claude offered, having come into the antechamber as well at some point. “Both times we were fairly self-contained and quiet, so you would have had to be  _ looking _ in order to be embarrassed. I assume you felt uncomfortable because you found it arousing.”

“Claude,” Lorenz scolded as the student stammered, his face going bright red as more than a handful of other students snickered, even if some of  _ them _ were blushing as well.

“He wouldn’t be blushing if I wasn’t right,” Claude replied with a shrug as he pulled on his shirt over his head.

Lorenz shook his head, torn between amused and disapproving. 

Oddly enough, the air in the antechamber had relaxed, and the students cracked some rather off-color jokes at each other as they wandered into the bath and sauna section. Once Claude and Lorenz had left the building, Claude said, “I like how you didn’t  _ actually _ apologize. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way’ isn’t a true apology.”

Lorenz shrugged and absently double-checked that his cufflinks were secure. “My behavior around you has been...less than noble of late, but it is not my responsibility to tend to other people’s sensibilities, particularly when the power imbalance is in my favor. What’s the worst he can do? Complain to the Professor?”

“True,” Claude agreed and took Lorenz’s hand in his. “So, off to find the Captain of the Knights of...Seiros? Are they still the Knights of Seiros?”

“Outside of our House, it isn’t exactly common knowledge about the former Archbishop, and trying to shift an entire country’s religion is neither easy nor quick. It is easier for them to still be the Knights of Seiros,” Lorenz murmured softly, leaning in so Claude could hear him. 

Claude hummed in understanding. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“But, before we find Alois, breakfast and  _ tea _ .”

Cladue laughed. “Gods forbid you don’t have your first cup of tea.”

How loudly Claude’s stomach protested the continued lack of food made Lorenz laugh and Claude flush. 

They, unfortunately, arrived at the dining hall during the morning rush, but Claude found them seats as Lorenz secured a pot of tea and his own breakfast; they switched places afterwards, Lorenz maintaining their claim on the seats while Claude picked up breakfast of his own. Lorenz was puzzled to find Claude returning with a teapot as well.

“I didn’t think you were a fan,” Lorenz said, taking a sip of the Four Spice tea that had been provided to him. 

“I didn’t get this for me,” Claude said. “I caught you looking mournfully at how small the teapots provided to the students are, which makes me wonder just how large your  _ personal _ ones are. So, here you go. Dunno what kind they gave me, though, sorry.”

“As long as it isn’t Chamomile, I’ll be fine,” Lorenz said, feeling pleasantly flustered by Claude’s consideration. 

Claude removed the top and glanced inside before snorting. “Almyran Pine. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not my favorite, but I will drink any tea,” Lorenz admitted. “Thank you.”

“It was no trouble,” Claude said and began to eat his breakfast. 

Lorenz was surprised that various students swung by to speak with either or both of them. It was mostly innocuous and innocent questions: curiosity around Almyran culture and food and customs for Claude, requests for tea recommendations or inquiries into certain policy decisions Lorenz had made for him (Lorenz). 

Eventually, Lorenz finished the tea and he and Claude returned their dishes and the teapots to the kitchen before wandering back into the Monastery proper. It took a little bit of asking, but they located Alois in an  _ office _ in the Knights’ barracks. The older man gave them a benevolent, if slightly tired, smile upon their entrance.

“Working you too hard, Alois?” Claude said with a wry smile. “I know the feeling.”

“The Church makes ample use of those willing to serve,” Alois admitted. “Even in peacetime, we’re called upon to tend to the people of Fodlan, and now that there are no borders, we’ve only gotten  _ busier _ because some nobles--”

“Aren’t exactly fond of change,” Lorenz finished for him. “Many still see themselves as ‘Alliance’ or ‘Kingdom’ or ‘Empire’ lords instead of lords of Fodlan. It is difficult to let go of tradition.”

“Don’t I know that,” Claude grumbled.

“So, what brings you here?” Alois said, clasping his hands together on his desk, looking out of place in his armor yet surrounded by stacks of paper.

“I am to be the Fodlanese ambassador to Almyra,” Lorenz said. “I was wondering if I might borrow a contingent of the Knights. While I don’t doubt that Claude is capable of protecting me, being the sole Fodlanese person in the entire country--besides Claude and his mother, of course--will be slightly lonesome.”

“There’s also enough prejudice that my guards might not do as good a job as they should when protecting him,” Claude reluctantly admitted. “So, Alois. Got anyone who wouldn’t mind a semi-permanent post in another country?”

“Count Gloucester, this will be the...third?...time you’re asking for a security detail,” Alois said as he ran his gloved hands through thinning and silvering hair. “A lot of the Knights don’t want to leave Fodlan, and there is plenty of work to do here.”

“The perils of reaching out to other nations,” Lorenz said, unable to stop a small, wry smile. “I’m sorry if I’ve made your job difficult.”

“It’s not  _ difficult _ ,” Alois said and picked out a book from the middle of one pile and flipped it open. “It is that serving abroad is often more dangerous, and if a knight has a family, they will want to bring them along, which complicates matters, and so on. I’m sure I’ll be able to find  _ someone _ , though. How many do you think you’ll need?”

“How many could you spare?”

“None,” Alois admitted. “Recruitment has been high, but that means we have a lot of greenhorns, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable sending them into very-recently enemy territory. No offense, Your Majesty.”

“None taken,” Claude replied sincerely.

Lorenz crossed his arms in thought. “Well, there is still time. I won’t be actually at Fodlan’s Throat for about 15 to 20 days. Perhaps if you put out feelers into the ranks, you can find willing volunteers and then train them a little more vigorously? Stopping at Garreg Mach isn’t terribly out of the way when traveling from Gloucester territory to Fodlan’s Throat. They would also have to be open-minded, so perhaps recruits from Empire or Kingdom territory? Being called Almyran is, unfortunately, a slur in some places in the Alliance, so I’d request no one from former-Alliance territories.”

“Makes sense,” Alois agreed and wrote something down on a scrap of paper. “Ugh, who knew being Captain would include so much  _ paperwork _ ?”

“Running any organization ends up with so much more administrative duties than you’d think,” Lorenz agreed. 

“That’s what you have advisors for,” Claude replied. 

“Except no one else likes paperwork, either, so no one helps!” Alois cried, frustrated. 

Lorenz put a sympathetic hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s difficult, but I have heard only good things since you came into the position of Captain. The Knights have achieved more esteem under you than any other.”

“Really?” Alois said, surprised, before a grin transformed his face. “That’s...that’s good to hear.”

“Might I ask for a minimum of three Knights?” Lorenz asked as he pulled his hand back. “Four would be ideal, but I can make do with three.”

“Why those numbers?” Alois asked. “Just curious.”

“With three, two can fight while the third goes to get help,” Lorenz said. “Four means two sets of partners, and people work better in groups, even if it is a group of two, and tasks can be more evenly distributed.”

“Huh,” Alois said. “Makes sense. All right. I’ll try for four.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said, infusing warmth and gratitude into his voice.

“You certainly make my job interesting,” Alois said. “I get the most fascinating reports and letters from the knights that are abroad. I remember hearing you talk about how much bigger the world is, Your Majesty, and the goddess knows you’re right!”

Claude smiled. “Please, call me Claude, no need to be formal among friends.”

Alois laughed. “If you say so! Very well, Claude. Know that you can reach out to the Knights, too, if you ever find yourself overwhelmed and in need of help. Friends help each other, right?”

“Yup,” Claude agreed. “C’mon, Lorenz, let’s leave the good Captain to his paperwork.”

Alois groaned dramatically as Claude took Lorenz’s elbow and guided him out of the barracks. 

“You’ve gotten so much better with people,” Claude commented once they were outside.

“You think so?” Lorenz asked.

“Yeah,” Claude affirmed. “I’m proud of you.”

Lorenz tried--and failed--to suppress a pleased smile and light blush. “Being forced into the role of diplomat has helped me overcome a lot of my...former awkwardness. Now, where do you think we can find a chess set?”

They had to borrow a chess set from Hanneman--his class was taking a test, so they were able to momentarily distract him--and took the chess set to one of the tea garden tables. 

“White or Black?” Lorenz asked. “Well, Gold or Black,” he amended due to the different color of the traditionally white pieces. 

“You can take gold,” Claude said as he settled in his chair.

“You’ll let me go first?” Lorenz asked as he sat down as well and began to set up the set.

Claude hummed, but his expression was distracted.

“Claude?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but notice how elegant your hands are,” Claude said. “Deft, delicate, strong--”

“Claude, stop,” Lorenz said, hating that his ears were burning from how badly he was blushing.

Claude chuckled before an almost  _ evil _ smirk formed on his face. “I think we should spice up the chess game.”

“Spice up how?” Lorenz said, wary.

“Well, I can think of a couple options,” Claude said. “Although it might require us taking the chess set to our borrowed rooms.”

Lorenz’s wariness--and intrigue--deepened. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Well, do you have sixteen pieces of clothing you can remove?”

“...we are not playing  _ strip chess _ .”

“Then how about truth-or-dare chess?”

Lorenz tilted his head in a nonverbal request for clarification. 

“Each time one of us loses a piece, we ask ‘truth or dare’?” Claude said, lightly spinning a pawn between his fingertips. “If you choose ‘truth’, you have to answer the question I ask truthfully; if you choose ‘dare’, you must perform a dare instead.”

“Is there a third option?” Lorenz asked, not particularly liking that option either, even if the tentative reawakened  _ need _ for Claude was nudging him to agree to strip poker in their room. Maybe they could draw a makeshift chess board on Claude’s torso because dear goddess did he have beautiful abs...

Claude tilted his head endearingly and said, “Well, yes.”

“What is it?”

“Every time you lose a pawn, you have to kiss my hand. Every time you lose a rook, that’s a forehead kiss. Losing a knight is a cheek kiss, losing a bishop is a kiss on the nose, losing your queen is a kiss on the neck. Checkmate is a kiss on the lips. How’s that sound?”

_ It sounds like something I can exploit, _ Lorenz thought.  _ Considering how much he likes to be touched and whatnot… _

“And what if I take your pieces? Is the...penalty?...the same?” Lorenz asked. 

“That would be easiest,” Claude said. “So, shall we do that, then?”

“If you won’t play a  _ normal _ game of chess, then, yes, this version will be fine.”

“After you, then,” Claude said and gestured to the gold pieces in front of Lorenz.

Lorenz, in his correspondence with a scholar, had had a rather interesting discussion in how the way a person played chess echoed how they approached leadership. It made Lorenz cringe a little, because he played fast and loose with all the pieces except his king. Sacrifices weren’t just acceptable, they were expected to serve the higher pieces. His normal tactics would serve him well in this situation, though--if he distracted Claude with enough kisses, he probably wouldn’t notice him going in for a checkmate. He fully expected to lose every pawn, but as long as he won, that was what mattered...right?

Lorenz picked up his knight and moved it to f3. 

Claude looked delighted. “I should have expected you to play a non-standard opening.”

A few moves later, Lorenz deliberately lost a pawn, so took Claude’s hand that was resting on the table and brought it to his lips, holding eye contact with Claude the entire time. The other man’s face flushed slightly, a faint, pleased smile on his lips.

_ Yes, I can exploit this, _ Lorenz thought. 

He couldn’t play  _ too _ poorly, however, since that would make Claude suspicious; however, each time Lorenz took one of Claude’s pieces, the man would  _ compliment _ him as well, and  _ that _ was the more distracting thing. His face felt continually hot even as he gradually maneuvered Claude into a checkmate. 

The surprise on Claude’s face was genuine, and he laughed when his loss sunk in, his face stained with a blush of his own. “Sneaky Gloucester. Distracting me with smaller kisses to claim the ultimate prize, hm?”

“Or perhaps you’re simply not as good a player as you think you are?” Lorenz said archly as Claude stood and walked around the table to stand beside Lorenz’s chair. Claude carefully cupped Lorenz’s head and tilted his face up as he (Claude) leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to Lorenz’s. The contact wasn’t particularly long or torrid, but it was pointed and deliberate, and when Claude pulled back he murmured, “How about another game?”

“Same rules?”

“Naturally. I’m wise to your strategy now, though. I won’t lose again.”

Lorenz smirked as he rearranged the board and Claude returned to his chair. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” 

Claude looked more flustered each consecutive time he lost, so Lorenz knew he wasn’t  _ deliberately _ losing; admittedly, each game became harder, but eventually Claude sunk down in his chair and grumbled, “How?! I’m not a bad player!”

Lorenz smiled, and he knew the expression carried an edge to it. “You’ve never played against a Gloucester. We’re very good at capitalizing on and abusing our opponent’s weaknesses.”

Claude blinked. “You’re right, we never played chess during school or the war.”

“We didn’t like each other enough to purposefully spend time in each other’s presence during either of those times,” Lorenz pointed out. “And I’m sure that if we played chess without the extra  _ spice _ , you would have won multiple times.”

“We should do that just to make myself feel better,” Claude grumbled and sat up straight again. “Alright. Normal game.”

It was almost  _ embarrassing _ , how quickly Lorenz lost the next game without the unfair advantage.

Claude seemed slightly mollified and smiled wryly. “Well, damn.”

“See?” Lorenz said. “When you’re not distracted, your former monicker holds well.”

“I’m glad you chose against strip chess, then!” Claude semi-laughed. “I would have lost so quickly it would have been pathetic.”

“I’m interested in such a game, though.”

“You are?” Claude asked, anticipation threading his voice.

“Not out here, of course,” Lorenz said, leaning back in his chair. “I have a chess set back at the Manse, and we can play strip chess then and there. I’d feel bad if we were...distracted...and lost any of the pieces of Hanneman’s personal set.”

“Point,” Claude said. “Another?”

“Why not?”

Lorenz lost count of how many games they played, and while Claude did come out ahead in terms of wins, it was nearly even. They came up with ridiculous rules for the later games, like winning by  _ losing _ all your pieces or switching the pieces’ movement capabilities, having only ten seconds to make a move, or being  _ required _ to wait a minute before making a move. It turned out that Lorenz was better at strategy, Claude at tactics. 

It also didn’t escape Lorenz’s notice that Claude seemed to have a fondness for the knight pieces, a dislike for the bishops, and a reluctance to lose even a single pawn. He put himself in check constantly to get another piece out of trouble or act as a distraction; Lorenz learned to abuse this instinct of Claude’s in order to win.

They stopped when the lunch bell rang, and Claude looked...thoughtful.

“Claude?” Lorenz asked as he packed up the set.

“I know that you are your most important piece, but...I think I understand a little better what you were taught by your family.”

“Oh?”

“The amount of times you won only by allowing everything except your king and queen to be taken was...significant,” Claude said. “Almost like all the other pieces were expendable.”

Lorenz’s movements slowed and he cleared his throat in discomfort. “I…”

“No, I’m not looking for an excuse or explanation,” Claude said, shaking his head. “It’s just an observation. If that was your  _ only _ tactic, I would have won  _ much _ more frequently than I did. I watched you change your mind more than once and move from a sacrifice to a support move. Even in chess, you fight the ends-justify-means that your family taught you. It’s...interesting.”

“I didn’t think a simple chess game would give so much away,” Lorenz commented. 

“We should play other tactical games as well,” Claude said. “Almyra has one, as does the country to our east. I’ll teach you how to play them; I’m interested in how you would approach them.”

“Then I look forward to learning,” Lorenz said and stood. “Shall we return this to Hanneman and then take lunch?”

“Sure,” Claude replied and stood as well, stretching out his back that was likely sore from the uncomfortable chair. 

It was  _ very _ awkward to catch a glimpse of Manuela pinning Hanneman to the wall of his office and kissing him thoroughly, so the two of them dropped off the chess set in the infirmary before beating a hasty retreat towards the dining hall, and Lorenz was torn between wanting to  _ giggle _ and being utterly scandalized.

“Well, I mean, I’m not surprised?” Claude said, hiccups interrupting his words, since he had clearly been swallowing laughter the entire time they were in the main building. 

“I’m not shocked either,” Lorenz agreed. “And I fear that, perhaps, our behavior has provoked others to be a bit more...brazen.”

Claude laughed, the sound interspersed with somehow endaring  _ hics _ . “Oh, if that is the case…! Think we may have helped a couple students come to their own kind of sexual awakening?” Claude asked as he nudged Lorenz and winked. “I’m sure we opened the eyes of some of the male students, for certain.”

Lorenz coughed in embarrassment and affectionately tugged on the section of Claude’s hair that continually misbehaved. “I have no doubt. When I spoke with him last, Sylvain mentioned he might write a pamphlet on, ah...intimacy between two men, since apparently informative literature on that topic is lacking.”

“Really?” Claude asked, and Lorenz nodded confirmation. “I should collaborate with him.”

“So, some of your previous intimate relationships were with men?” Lorenz asked, squashing the jealousy that threatened before it could bloom. Claude said that he had moved on from all his previous lovers. There was no need to be jealous. So what if he wasn’t Claude’s first? That just meant they were less likely to make a catastrophic mistake when-- _ if _ \--they were intimate. Not that they would be. Right? He didn’t want to be added to the list of people-who-hurt-Claude.

_ Mine! _ the greedy part of him protested in a snarl.

“Uh,” Claude said, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “Well, yeah. I had more exposure to men, since many of the tribe leaders wouldn’t let their daughters anywhere near me.”

“I see,” Lorenz said, keeping his voice and expression neutral. “Well, Sylvain said he’d provide me with a copy, so I suppose once I receive it, you can...tack on an addendum?”

“And eventually you’ll be able to add on to it as well,” Claude said and ran his hand down Lorenz’s spine, stopping near his mid-back; the motion made Lorenz reflexively straighten more, the passage of Claude’s touch prompting a shiver in its wake. 

Lorenz’s face flushed. “Claude.”

Claude gave him an unapologetic grin and wink.

Lorenz was  _ not _ expecting their lunch to be interrupted by frequent queries about the rules for their chess game. Claude was clearly only maintaining a straight face because Lorenz would disapprove of anything else; however, his eyes were dancing with glee.

“I think we’ve started a trend,” Claude said, leaning into Lorenz’s body and pressing a kiss to his cheek. The man preferred sitting  _ beside _ Lorenz as opposed to opposite. It certainly made it easier for Lorenz to hook his foot around Claude’s ankle, a quietly possessive gesture; however, it also meant that Claude had access to Lorenz’s body, and he seemed to take some kind of strange comfort in sliding his fingertips underneath Lorenz’s thigh. 

Lorenz snorted. “Of course we have. You’re a King and I’m the highest-ranking noble in the former-Alliance territories. People would naturally look to us for guidance.”

Claude snickered and, inexplicably, stole a piece of Lorenz’s lunch.

“Do you have anything you want to do before our tea with Marianne and Hilda?” Lorenz asked. 

“Not really,” Claude said. “Would you be able to give me a lesson in magic?”

Lorenz hesitated. “I...I’m not sure. I’d rather be able to take my time.”

“Then let’s do some fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“Either that or I start trying to teach you how to fly,” Lorenz said. “Have you ever ridden a wyvern before?”

Lorenz shook his head. “I’m not afraid of heights, but I have also never felt the need to learn. I have Shadow, and he is already dangerous enough for my taste.”

“I promise I’ll keep you safe? You should at least know how to saddle and sit on a wyvern, since they are an important part of Almyran culture. If you look closely enough, you’ll see that there is a  _ highly _ stylized wyvern in official Almyran heraldry.”

Lorenz sighed. “Well, you  _ did _ previously offer to teach me how to fly...although I have the feeling we weren't referencing the same kind of flying at the time.”

Claude’s face flushed dark and he laughed. “No, we weren’t. Garreg Mach also has some of the most docile wyvern I’ve ever come across, so you’ll be fine. Will Shadow be jealous?”

“Possibly,” Lorenz said after a moment’s thought. “I’ll pick up a few sugar cubes to apologize to him once we’re done.”

“Then finish your lunch, pick up some sugar cubes, and we’ll head to the wyvern stables.”

“Very well.”

After their lunch concluded, Lorenz’s stomach was tying itself in knots as they walked together towards the wyvern--he wasn’t  _ scared _ of heights, but he respected them. He had fallen off a ladder in his family’s library when he was young and had broken his arm, and gained a  _ healthy _ respect for gravity and the damage it could do. Thus, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting off the ground.

Claude must have noticed his nerves, since he hooked his arm in Lorenz’s and said, “We’ll be staying on the ground, don’t worry. I’m just going to get you used to how tack works for wyvern as opposed to horses. The wings make an  _ enormous _ difference.”

“Unsurprising,” Lorenz responded dryly. Claude seemed unruffled--he probably could tell Lorenz’s sarcasm came from nerves.

“The saddle is also angled slightly differently, so your balance is different,” Claude continued. “The difference isn’t as pronounced as for the pegasi, but it’s still noticeable.”

The wyvern stables smelled very faintly of old blood, and Lorenz swallowed hard, the scent stirring unpleasant memories. 

“Lorenz?” Claude said,  _ somehow _ noticing his (Lorenz’s) discomfort. 

“Horses aren’t carnivores,” Lorenz said by way of explanation. “Garreg Mach is clean, but the scent of blood lingers.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable, we can--”

“No,” Lorenz cut in. “If riding a wyvern is as ingrained in the culture as you and the structure of the Almyran army makes it seem, I should at least be  _ familiar _ with the creatures.”

Claude nodded slowly. “If it ever gets to be too much, though…”

“I’ll let you know.”

Lorenz very distantly recognized the wyvern Claude brought him to as the one that had borne Raphael when he had flirted with the idea of becoming a wyvern rider, and the large beast opened one amber eye, observing him with calm indifference.

“This,” Claude said as he put a hand on the wyvern’s scaled hide, “Is Bunny.”

“...what?”

“I didn’t name him,” Claude said. “I think one of the former female students thought he was as gentle as a rabbit, and his antlers look a little like rabbit ears, too, so the name stuck. He has never seen a day of combat in his life, and is patient to a fault, so stop looking like you’re afraid he’s going to eat  _ you  _ and let me show you how to saddle a wyvern correctly.”

Having to be aware so the straps didn’t bite into the muscles of the wyvern’s wings, as well as making sure the attached chest-plate wasn’t pressing too tightly was a  _ hassle _ , and took Lorenz longer than he would have liked to gain mild proficiency in. Claude was an amazingly patient teacher while Bunny, for his part, simply sat there and let them work, occasionally shifting to make it easier for them to reach around his body and flapping when instructed by Claude. He  _ did _ seem smart, but…

“Why does he remind me of Linhardt?” Lorenz said, a note of puzzlement to his voice.

Claude burst out laughing. “Linhardt? How?”

“He’s clearly intelligent, but also clearly unmotivated.”

“Ha! Guess you’re right. Bunny, the Linhardt of wyverns. It’s...cute.”

Lorenz shook his head, bemused.

They stopped a little before teatime, and Bunny gave Claude an affectionate head-butt goodbye as they left.

“You’re good in general with animals,” Lorenz observed as they walked.

“Animals don’t see bloodlines,” Claude responded with a shrug. “I spent a  _ lot _ of time among the horses and wyvern at the palace.”

Lorenz’s heart ached and he offered Claude his hand; Claude immediately took it, interlacing their fingers. Lorenz’s grip may have been a little tight, a nonverbal way of saying he was here, that Claude wasn’t alone anymore. Claude shot him a small, wry smile and brought their conjoined hands up for a gentle kiss before letting them fall, his gait somehow more relaxed.

Lorenz did have to let go in order to pick up the sweets tray and teapot, and he was distantly pleased that the kitchen gave him the largest available. Admittedly, saying it was for four people likely was the reason, but no one else needed to know he planned on monopolizing the tea until the time came. Claude carried the dishes, utensils, and tea cups. 

“Finally big enough for you, huh?” Claude said, eyeing the teapot. He blinked, grimaced, and blushed, which told Lorenz that the other man’s mind had taken the innocuous statement and laced it with innuendo.

“Indeed,” Lorenz said as they made their way into the tea gardens.Lorenz set up the table with the expanded sweets tower, Claude simply leaning back in the chair and  _ watching _ him after putting down the plateware. It was...Lorenz wasn’t sure how he felt about being so  _ seen _ .

“What?” Lorenz asked, barely keeping himself from blushing. 

“You’re very handsome,” Claude said. “I’m enjoying seeing you without your armor. While those pants of yours are  _ always _ sinful, your chest armor hid how nicely-developed your upper body is, too.”

“Claude,” Lorenz sighed as he set out the appropriate plates and silverware--admittedly, while they  _ did _ have three other cups, he made sure to put the cups top-down on the saucer; ostensibly to keep out the cups clean, more to indicate he didn’t feel like sharing the tea. 

“Do you  _ have _ to wear such form-fitting pants?” Claude continued, a bit of a whine entering his voice. “Other people can see, too.”

“It is easier for me to move and ride with my pants the way they are,” Lorenz said. “I, for one, am grateful that you wear as baggy clothing as you do. I imagine part of it is cultural, while part of it is as a result of your usual form of transportation? It must keep you warmer when in the air.”

“Yeah,” Claude said, running his hand absently over his arm. “So glad Teach didn’t choose me for the White Heron ball thing.” 

The image of Claude not in the dancer uniform tailored for the male students, but  _ female _ ones popped in his head, and Lorenz had to shake his head to dislodge it. He wouldn’t be able to survive Claude showing that much skin. Not without wanting to constantly touch him, hold him, hide him, because no one else should be allowed to see his exquisite form.

“Claude! I should have expected to find you with him,” Hilda said as she and Marianne approached the table, dispelling the last clinging dredges of the delightful, awful image.

Claude smiled and stood, and exchanged a quick hug with both Marianne and Hilda before everyone took their seats. Hilda took two of the sweets from the tray, and placed one on her dish and one on Marianne’s, who gave her a shy, gentle smile and a soft thanks. 

“Thank you again, Marianne, for agreeing to take on stewardship of the Alliance,” Lorenz said, steadfastly ignoring the hand Claude had delicately placed on his thigh. As long as he didnt do anything  _ untoward _ with it, it could stay there.

“I’m glad I can help,” Marianne said, seeming much more resolute. She and Hilda had probably spoken at length about her decision and assuaged most of her worries.

“So, what do we need to know?” Hilda asked as she gently and carefully tore apart her chocolate croissant. 

“I will explain what I can now, but will probably be sending you plenty of messengers with more detailed reports once I am back in my study. Also, please never hesitate to reach out to me, as I will always be more than glad to assist.”

With that, their discussions began in earnest.

Talking was thirsty work, however, so Lorenz poured himself some tea. He offered to the others, but they all politely declined.

_ I asked for Seiros Tea and got Almond Blend instead, _ Lorenz grumbled internally as he took a sip.  _ Oh well. They  _ were _ quite busy. I’ll have to tell them their Almond Blend is growing stale, too, since it’s so  _ bitter.

He was the only one to drink the tea as they planned and discussed the transfer of power, either because the others didn’t want to risk losing fingers trying to take the teapot away from him, or because they weren’t in the mood for the drink. It was unseasonably warm, so  _ iced _ tea would have been better, but Lorenz was accustomed to drinking hot tea no matter the weather. 

“It never ceases to astonish me that you bleed blood and not tea,” Claude commented as Lorenz shook the final few drops out of the teapot. 

“We all have our vices,” Lorenz drawled. “Mine just happens to keep me awake. Although, I  _ will _ have to complain to the kitchen. Their Almond Blend is dreadful.”

“Let me try,” Claude said and reached out to take the teacup. “Maybe you’re just a snob.”

“While that’s highly likely, I still--Claude?”

The moment Claude had touched the teacup, his free hand had gone to the ear that had his earring and he swore sharply. “Shit. You drank all of it, right?”

“I did, yes,” Lorenz said. “Well, except for that. Wait, your earring, doesn't it…?”

“Detect poison, yeah,” Claude said and stood forcibly enough that some of the tea sloshed over the side of the cup. “Shit. We need to get you to the infirmary.”

“Calm down,” Lorenz said and remained sitting. “You don’t have to worry.”

“You just potentially drank an entire pot of poisoned tea, of course I have to worry!”

“Poisons have no effect on me.”

Claude blinked. “What?”

“Some Crests have...quirks,” Lorenz said. “Such as with Dimitri and his beastly strength-- _ that _ came from his Crest. To the consternation of our enemies, the Crest of Gloucester makes us immune to basically all poisons.”

“...well that’s sure as hell handy when I’d imagine a lot of people want you dead.”

“Yes, well--wait. What if my tea wasn’t the only one that was poisoned?” Lorenz said. “We need to tell Manuela and the Professor!”

Thankfully, after a flurry of activity, it turned out that  _ only _ the pot that had been provided to Lorenz had been laced with a cyanide and in such quantities as to be very quickly lethal. However, no one could recall who had prepared the pot, as the kitchen had been busy preparing for dinner, finishing the post-lunch cleaning, and providing all the students who were interested in having an afternoon tea with the appropriate food and drinks.

“It’s good that you have your earring,” Lorenz said as they waited in the infirmary, where Claude had dragged him in spite of Lorenz’s assurances that he would be  _ fine _ . “It would have resulted in war if you had drank some and been hurt.”

“Who says the target was  _ me _ ?” Claude asked, frowning thoughtfully at the floor as he sat beside Lorenz on the medical cot.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Lorenz asked. “You’re the Almyran King, and there are still plenty of people in Fodlan who think poorly of Almyra, and likely wish to see a return to hostilities. It also isn’t exactly a secret that we are close, so...”

“And you’re Count Gloucester,” Claude pointed out. “Given Fodlan’s isolationist history, you suddenly opening borders and making nice with foreigners may be interpreted as a power play on your part to eventually overthrow the Professor with the help of outside forces.”

Lorenz balked. “I would  _ never _ \--”

“I know that and  _ Teach  _ knows that, but I’m sure there are plenty of people who don’t know  _ you _ and only know your  _ father _ .”

“He’d never resort to using foreigners to achieve his goals,” Lorenz said and shook his head.

“I bet they just think the fruit doesn’t fall  _ too _ far from the tree, even if the methods are different.”

“Claude, you’re unnecessarily worried about me,” Lorenz said and carefully ran his fingers along Claude’s jaw, making him look up from scowling a hole in the floor. 

“I think I’m worried the right amount,” Claude grumbled and pressed his hand against Lorenz’s, keeping it lightly pinned to his cheek as his eyes closed.

Lorenz frowned, then hooked his other arm around Claude’s waist and dragged Claude onto his lap. “Claude.”

“What?”

“Look at me. Please.”

With obvious reluctance, Claude did so, and even though his expression was serene, there was fear in his eyes and how tightly he pressed his hand to Lorenz’s. 

“When off the battlefield, I am exceedingly difficult to kill,” Lorenz said, keeping his voice low and soft. “Do you think you could tell me what’s bothering you?”

Claude visibly swallowed and murmured, “Poison is a favored method of assassination in Almyra, which I suppose explains my fascination with it. Any time I would grow close to someone, even as just a friend, there was a not-insignificant chance that they would become a target themselves.”

“Then I suppose I will just appear to be even more of a demon to your superstitious enemies, being able to survive the worst poisons they can concoct,” Lorenz said as he smoothed Claude’s sash out on the top of Claude’s thigh, distantly hoping there would be some comfort in the touch. “I will take pleasure in watching them sweat as they realize that  _ nothing is happening _ after I take a sip of laced wine or food. They will wonder what kind of monster you brought home with you, and the terror in their eyes will be  _ delightful _ .”

The smallest of shaky smiles passed across Claude’s face and he leaned in to wrap his arms around Lorenz’s neck and curl into his body, hiding his face in Lorenz’s hair. 

Lorenz gently stroked Claude’s neck, back, and shoulders, and hummed his favorite hymn as he did so. 

“Growing up, the friends I had were few and far between,” Claude murmured, his voice a low whisper in Lorenz’s ear, causing Lorenz to stop. “I often had to escape the palace to find anyone who would be willing to play with me. I probably terrified my parents on a regular basis, thinking about it now.”

“I’m sure if your mother is anything like you, she had you tailed the entire time,” Lorenz responded equally quietly.

Claude chuckled weakly at that. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course.”

That caused a more genuine laugh and Claude squirmed a little until he was comfortably settled. “I made friends with a brother and sister--Saeed and Shadia--and they bought the story of me being a homeless orphan roaming the streets, barely staying on the right side of the law. It explained why I wasn’t always around, you see. There were days I had to hide.”

Lorenz nodded and gently stroked Claude’s back and shoulders, silently prompting Claude to continue. 

“Well, eventually, someone figured out who Khalid really was and decided that a family tainted by interactions with a half-demon could only bring calamity upon the community. So, they poisoned that family’s supply of water, and...everyone in that family died. Saeed, Shadia, their parents and grandparents. I found them all dead, the sickly stench of decay and poison heavy in the air of their home. No one had stepped up to take care of their funerary rights because no one wanted to catch the demon-taint from touching their bodies or belongings. I was…heartbroken. Furious. It has taken years to acknowledge that I was not and am not at fault for their deaths, but that callous murder of an entire family just for  _ knowing _ me made it...hard to let other people be anything more than surface acquaintances. It didn’t help that each time I  _ did _ let someone in closer than at arm’s length, my enemies hurt them and then claimed the misfortune that befell them was because of my demon-blood.”

“So, letting me in as close as you have and then having someone poison the tea brought up old, painful memories,” Lorenz paraphrased as he gently played with Claude’s hair. 

Claude hummed in confirmation and curled in closer, holding on tighter.

“Shamir, Catherine, and Seteth will find out who was behind this soon, I am certain,” Lorenz said as he continued to try to reassure Claude through his gentle touches. “And I am fine--even poisons with a delay don’t affect me. Now you know why your mild stomach poisons never worked on me, though, as I am  _ certain _ you tested one out on me at least once. I’m sure it would have caused you no end of amusement to see me in random and embarrassing gastric distress back when we were not on such...good terms.”

Claude snorted at that, then laughed, although the sound was a little strained and wet. “It not working on you is how I found out that Hubert dosed himself with low levels of poison in each cup of his morning coffee, and that he couldn’t taste the difference in his normal poison and my poison. I don’t  _ think _ he found out I made the switch.”

“I doubt you would still be alive if he had figured out what happened,” Lorenz pointed out drolly.

“Either that or he was too embarrassed and didn’t want to give me the satisfaction of  _ knowing _ I’d pulled a fast one on him.”

“Perhaps.”

A silence that hung heavy with the pain of old memories descended, and Lorenz’s heart hurt. Claude wasn’t at fault for any of the pain inflicted on those who sought to be his friends when he was growing up, and even if the  _ adult _ Claude recognized that, it didn’t undo the harm. 

_ He settled from a nightmare when I sang to him last time, perhaps…? _ Lorenz thought, then nodded slightly to himself. Claude made a quiet, confused sound when Lorenz shifted him on his lap, stood with him in a bridal carry, then sat back down so his (Lorenz’s) back was to the wall and settled with Claude still curled up against him, just with more comfortable support. He tugged the sheet from the cot out and draped it around both himself and Claude, holding Claude securely against him. “There. Better.”

“Yeah,” Claude absently agreed before hiding his face in the crook of Lorenz’s neck and draping his arms around Lorenz’s waist. “You still smell like roses.”

“Because I’m  _ fine _ . The Crest does something to the poison, not my body, so I don’t ‘sweat’ it out. Don’t worry, it will take more than one pot of badly brewed tea to put me down.”

“Badly brewed indeed,” Claude grumbled and pressed a gentle kiss to Lorenz’s neck, which Lorenz did  _ not _ expect to feel as good as it did. Then again, Claude had seemed to enjoy it when  _ he _ did it, so Lorenz supposed it made sense that he would find it pleasurable as well.

_ Nothing _ beat the sense of...strength that came from holding Claude when he was feeling vulnerable, though. It was a more subtle high, and while part of it was far from noble--he had to guard what was  _ his _ \--the  _ trust _ inherent in how relaxed Claude’s posture was, in the concealed tears he felt dampening his collar, fed a part of Lorenz that was so starved that even the slightest taste of what Lorenz had a niggling suspicion could be called  _ love _ was giving him physical stomach cramps. 

He couldn’t have this. He didn’t  _ deserve _ this. He wasn’t worthy of such trust and affection. 

_ Claude does nothing without having thought it through, _ Lorenz thought as he played with Claude’s hair and quietly sang an old,  _ old _ song in Nabatean, his voice low, deep, and hopefully soothing, his other hand resting lightly on Claude’s hip.  _ And he...he was deeply upset that I could have been hurt, perhaps even  _ died _. He kept his composure throughout it all, but… _

“Claude?” Lorenz asked once Claude seemed to have settled.

“Yeah?” Claude asked, his lips lightly brushing against Lorenz’s skin. 

“Thank you.”

“...for what?”

“For caring,” Lorenz said. “Is there anything else I can do to help you right now?”

“Feeling your heartbeat and hearing you breathing is good for now,” Claude murmured. “It lets me know you’re alive. We’re sharing a bed again tonight, just so I can keep you from dying in the middle of the night if the poison somehow works its way around your natural immunity.”

“I promise I won’t die, but if that will make you feel better...”

“It will.”

“Perhaps we should just ask to be moved to a joint room. The bed is a little tight with the two of us.”

“We’re not gonna be here much longer, and your tent is even smaller than the beds, and I  _ fully _ intend to share it with you whenever possible.”

“Claude,” Lorenz sighed, hating that he actually didn’t mind the prospect. He carefully pressed a kiss to Claude’s head, which earned him a happy hum from Claude. It was becoming increasingly apparent that whether or not the thing he felt for Claude was actually love, it wasn’t going away. Claude had, for some insane reason, chosen him, and a part of Lorenz that stubbornly clung to hope that he should have discarded years ago responded to his affections, like a prisoner kept in dark solitude suddenly getting a hint of light and fresh air. 

_ Marianne once compared Claude to a wind, _ Lorenz thought as he absently ran his hand up and down Claude’s spine.  _ Perhaps he truly is a wind of change. I wonder...is that what his element is? My magic tends to light and fire, I wonder if his will be wind-oriented. _

A quiet silence draped around them, only their breathing filling the space, although hushed and frantic activity passed by the door every now and then.

_ I imagine they’re looking for the culprit. I feel bad not helping, but Claude wouldn’t allow me to delay the check-up to ensure I wasn’t lying about being immune. I suppose it is possible to discover a poison that would get around my immunity, but I doubt such exists. It hasn’t been discovered in all the years since Crests entered Fodlanese blood, but… _

“Lorenz?” Claude said in a murmur, and Lorenz hummed in acknowledgement, shifting to look at Claude.

Claude stared deeply into his eyes, then recited what was, based on the cadence of the language, a poem in Almyran; after a short pause, he translated it to: “You are the road of love and, at its end, my home. One of the crowd, and yet I see you crowned. I see you in the stars, in the sun and moon, in the green leaves of the trees. You are the air in my lungs, the water that soothes my parched throat. Without your presence, life loses its luster.”

Lorenz felt like his insides had turned to mush, and he knew he was smiling rather stupidly. “You never fail to surprise. Who knew you were a poet?”

“I can’t take credit for the poetry,” Claude admitted sheepishly. “Like you’ve memorized some hymns and whatnot, I memorized some traditional love poems. It was...perhaps the one seduction technique my dad told me about that I thought had merit.”

It was surprisingly easy to imagine Claude pouring over books of poetry and committing the particularly good ones to memory.

“You probably think it’s cheating, using someone else’s words,” Claude muttered, shifting back to his previous position, clinging close.

“Not in the slightest,” Lorenz said. “I learned how to write poetry by copying my favorite poets, both contemporary and classical. And sometimes other people have put the feeling into words better than you can, so...no, it’s not cheating. It actually demonstrates good taste.”

“If you say so,” Claude said, his embrace growing a little more firm.

“I promise you, I’ll be fine,” Lorenz said as he gently stroked Claude’s back in an attempt to offer  _ some _ comfort.

“Really?”

Claude sounded  _ young _ , and it hurt more than Lorenz anticipated. 

“Yes,” Lorenz said. “Claude?”

“Hm?”

The words he  _ wanted _ to say stuck in his throat, and before he could find a way to rephrase what he  _ wanted _ to say into something that was  _ acceptable _ for him to say, the door to the infirmary opened.

“How are you feeling?” Manuela asked as she strode into the room, looking at a clipboard; upon looking up, however, one of her eyebrows quirked in amused incredulity. “Please tell me you are still adequately clothed under the sheets.”

“Manuela, I’d  _ never _ \--” Lorenz started, his face heating. 

To prove that they weren’t doing anything lewd, Claude pulled down the sheet, but didn’t move from his position, although that might have also come from the fact that Lorenz hadn’t let him go, either. 

“Forgot to take my boots off, sorry,” Claude said, not sounding apologetic in the least. “Lorenz has been coherent the entire time you were away, his resting heart rate and breathing haven’t changed radically, his body temperature hasn’t fluctuated, nor has he excessively prespired. He hasn’t vomited, but I can’t tell you if he’s feeling sick to his stomach. He hasn’t lost consciousness and hasn’t had any seizures. I...think that covers most of the effects of cyanide poisoning.”

“Very good, Claude,” Manuela said, clearly impressed. “You know your poisons.”

“They’re a hobby,” Claude said, his voice flat. 

“So it would seem,” Manuela replied mildly. “I’d normally like to keep someone who ingested roughly enough poison to kill them ten times over in for observation, but I get the feeling that you will do just as good a job at watching over him.”

“If not better,” Claude quietly muttered to himself in Almyran, and Lorenz was endlessly pleased he understood. 

“So, I will release him into your care,” Manuela said with forced cheer, setting the clipboard down. “Now, shoo. People at your stage of a budding relationship make me ill.”

“By your leave,” Lorenz said and released Claude, who uncurled, stretched, and got to his feet. Lorenz didn’t expect Claude to help him put on what clothes he had been required to take off to be more easily examined, but it seemed like the man wanted him out of the infirmary as soon as physically possible. 

“Don’t hesitate to come see me if his condition takes a turn for the worse,” Manuela called after them as they left, Claude’s hand holding tightly onto Lorenz’s as he half dragged Lorenz away.

“Claude, talk to me,” Lorenz said as he used Claude’s grip to pull Claude close and managed to disentangle their hands so he could wrap his arm around Claude’s waist, holding him near as they walked once they were out of the Monastery's main building. “I’m capable of listening, I swear.”

“I know you are,” Claude said and leaned into Lorenz’s body. “It’s just…” Claude laughed, the sound bitter. “I’m not used to being  _ terrified _ . It’s...I’ve known I love you, but that heady feeling kept me from considering what it would feel like to  _ lose _ you, and now that I do, I...”

“...Claude?”

Claude rubbed at his eyes, took a deep breath, then let it out in a heavy sigh. “Damnit, I  _ still _ love you. In spite of all this...this... _ fear _ . I love you anyway. I half thought the feelings would wither the first time you were put in serious danger, when you were hurt potentially because of your association with me, but they’re still here, and somehow  _ stronger _ . Because you just...just...shrugged off your potential demise like it was an  _ inconvenience _ , and if that isn’t sexy, nothing is.”

“I told you, I’m hard to kill off the battlefield,” Lorenz said and pressed a quick, careful kiss to Claude’s head. “Question.”

“What?”

“Could you cook dinner for me?” Lorenz asked. “I’m a bit peckish, and I doubt there is any food left. However, I don’t know how to cook.”

“You don’t  _ know _ how--of course you don’t, what am I saying?” Claude sighed. “I’ll make something for us both, that way I  _ know _ it won’t be poisoned.”

_ Exactly, _ Lorenz thought, pleased with himself. _ It will make you feel better and more in control. _

“Will you be making me something Almyran?”

Claude shook his head. “No, Garreg Mach doesn’t have the right spices and I don’t think you should have something spicy anyway after nearly being poisoned. Probably something with a lot of  _ bread _ …”

“Do you like cooking?”

“Not particularly,” Claude admitted. “But it’s something that e _ veryone _ should know how to do. I’ll teach you...later. For now, just let me cook, okay?”

“Of course,” Lorenz said and guided them towards the dining hall and kitchen. Claude’s fingers were now hooked through one of his belt loops and the pressure of his arm against his waist was digging Thyrsus into Lorenz’s back, but he didn’t mind, since it seemed like some of the tension was finally draining out of Claude.

The dining hall was empty except for a few people cleaning the tables and sweeping the floors, and the kitchen was equally sparsely populated. Claude let go of him once they entered the kitchen, and quickly charmed his way into some basic supplies and cookware. Lorenz took up a seat out of the way and watched as Claude expertly and quickly threw together...something. Lorenz didn’t entirely care  _ what _ he was making, just that  _ Claude _ was the one making it.

_ I have a bad feeling I’m going to agree to attempt a relationship with him, _ Lorenz thought distantly as he observed Claude work.

The murmurs of  _ mine _ were more of a purr, reveling in the strange domesticity, and, in spite of an apparent brush with death, Lorenz felt...happy.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for your enjoyment (hopefully)! For once, no content warnings, but plenty of fuzzies, in _my_ opinion.
> 
> Thank you all, as always, for any feedback (comment, kudo, bookmark, hells, even just _reading_ ) you choose to leave.
> 
> And, finally, FE3H still does not belong to me.

Lorenz was suddenly awake and uneasy, and not entirely sure why. His head spun slightly from the abrupt awareness, and he normally would have been annoyed except for the soft sniffles and audible swallows that he recognized from personal experience as someone crying and trying to be silent-to-quiet about it. 

“Claude?” he asked, moving swiftly from the liminal space of confused drowsiness to full wakefulness. “Claude, what’s wrong?”

“Ah, damn,” Claude murmured, the words interrupted by a  _ hic _ . “Was-n’t quiet en-en-enough, huh?”

“Are you hurt?” Lorenz asked, attempting to pull back to get a better look at Claude, but the other man’s arms tightened around him and kept him in place.

“Yes and no,” Claude responded eventually. “I’m having a hard time sleeping because my dreams are all nightmares about what would have happened earlier if you  _ weren’t _ immune to poison. And that makes me wonder how you learned about your being immune, which reminded me that your parents fucking  _ tortured _ you when you were a kid, and it just hurts my heart, y’know?”

“Claude, don’t waste your tears on my past,” Lorenz said. “Neither you nor I have the power the Professor does to wind back time, and even they can’t turn things back that far, so no matter how much you wish you could change things...if wishes were fishes, Flayn would finally have enough fish to satisfy her.”

Claude chuckled weakly at that. 

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Lorenz asked. “Ah, how about this?”

“Hm?”

“You meditate regularly, do you not?”

“Yeah, usually it helps me...go to sleep.”

“How about I walk you through the guided meditation that helped me get in touch with my magic long before the Professor started tutoring those of us interested in it?”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” Claude sighed. “I won’t mind listening to you talk, particularly if you use the  _ meditation voice. _ ”

“There’s a specific voice?”

“Oh, yes. Soft, deep, slow, soothing,” Claude said, pitching his own voice to what he intended. “All the teachers seem to have it down. Think you could try?”

“...I fear that if I do, that you will be more distracted than anything else.”

Claude paused, thought, then said, “Yeah, I can see myself being distracted by you sounding sexy.”

“Claude, you’re cracking jokes because you’re uncomfortable with the thought of magic and are trying to force yourself into levity.”

“...already learning my avoidance tactics, huh?”

“Indeed. You smile and are witty and make people laugh so that they don’t see the sadness and pain in your eyes. Do you want to try the visualization?”

Claude sighed. “Why not?”

“Then close your eyes, if they aren’t already and we’ll start with steadying your breathing.”

Lorenz initially matched Claude’s breathing rate, then gradually brought him down to something easier, smoother, and deeper. He waited until Claude was breathing that way naturally, and not trying to  _ force _ himself to maintain the rhythm before he began to weave the visualization. 

He had found it in an old,  _ old _ book on magic in his family’s library. It was simple: count down from thirteen to one, indicating each moon--including the occasional blue moon--and center, bringing attention to  _ how _ one was breathing without judgement if attention wandered. Once centered, count down from twelve to one for the members of the zodiac. Claude didn’t have to know the reasoning behind the numbers, but it helped Lorenz. Lorenz tended to visualize the first thirteen numbers as calligraphy, using the mental act of ‘writing’ the numbers on a blank background to focus, and described them so to Claude. The second twelve he used a flight of stairs, with each step being a number. It gave a sense of movement, of drawing inward. It was actually a little hard to keep himself from following his own instructions, because it had become...almost  _ reflexive _ to perform at least the first part of the meditation when he was having a particularly hard time during a diplomatic meeting. It helped him keep his composure.

Claude had gone still, but it was a waiting stillness. 

“There is a door in front of you,” Lorenz murmured, absently stroking Claude’s back. “You reach out and push on its surface, and it swings open at your lightest touch.”

Lorenz’s eyes closed, too. “You step inside. Take a moment to observe the room. Do not try to change it, do not try to judge it, it is what it is.”

His first time doing the visualization, he had stepped out into a cathedral loosely based on the writings he had read about the Cathedral at Garreg Mach. He wondered what Claude saw. 

“In the middle of the room are eight bowls; seven already have something in them, while the eighth waits empty.” 

Seven bowls: fire, water, lightning, earth, air, light, dark. Lorenz didn’t  _ know _ of anyone who had Earth magic, but there was debate amongst those who lived in the ivory towers of academia about whether or not healing magic called on the energy of the earth and the living things it holds. Still, it existed as an energy, if one believed the scholars, so it was included in the visualization. 

Lorenz ‘walked’ Claude to all of the energies, even though he knew that there was likely one or two that he was drawn to more than others. In magic, skipping steps usually ended in catastrophe. He guided Claude to take whichever energies called to him and to put a sample of whatever they manifested as in the single empty bowl--it was a way of ‘concentrating’ the magic within. The different energies were all miscible, so once the samples blended together, they formed a liquid, and the bowl shrank or grew to the size necessary to contain it all, and it was presented to Claude as something to drink. 

Lorenz  _ felt _ Claude’s breath catch, so Lorenz made sure to detail that nothing could hurt him, that it was just accepting a part of himself that  _ already existed _ more completely into himself. Claude’s breathing evened out again, and Lorenz was amused that Claude somehow felt even  _ warmer _ \--usually, meditations dropped his (Lorenz’s) body temperature, but perhaps the visualization, since it was the surfacing and incorporation of his magic, lent itself to generating heat. 

He let Claude sit with and ‘experience’ the magic as it settled and moved within him, then, after waiting what felt like forever, but which he knew was likely only a few minutes--he had been overwhelmed, and imagined Claude, whose home culture  _ feared _ magic, felt just as much so--brought Claude from one to twelve, then one to thirteen. 

It  _ killed _ Lorenz to wait in silence, but he wasn’t going to push Claude to speak, and he half-hoped that the other man had fallen asleep.  _ He _ had been wired, but he had also wanted to tell his mother and father of his achievement--however, having access to his magic was different than being able to use it, and was not enough in their eyes. All unearthing his magic had achieved was adding more to his studies. However, the way Claude was breathing said he was awake and simply...unresponsive. 

“Huh,” Claude said softly after what felt like  _ forever _ . 

“How are you feeling?” Lorenz asked, strangling the worry out of his tone. 

“Not bad,” Claude admitted. “You’re good at that.”

“It is the student who does all the work.”

“True, but I’ve come across some truly terrible teachers,” Claude said around a yawn. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure to help you, Claude.”

“Is that so?” Claude said, a smirk in his voice. 

“Yes?” Lorenz replied and Claude squirmed until Lorenz’s hold on him relaxed, and he scooted up so his head was on the pillow as well.

“Tell me something, Lorenz,” Claude said as he carefully traced the bone structure of Lorenz’s face with his fingertips. “What exactly do you know of  _ pleasure _ ? You were  _ discouraged  _ from exploring yourself, right?”

“That’s correct,” Lorenz said, torn between wary and intrigued. 

“You have remarkable instincts, though.”

“I do not know if it is so much  _ instincts _ as much as ‘reading enough books and seeing enough plays and operas to get a sense of what physical intimacy is and how it should be portrayed.’”

“No, no,” Claude said and scooted in closer, threading his leg through Lorenz’s and pressed close enough that their lips were barely not touching. “You’re a fast learner as well.”

“I have a good teacher.”

“Oh, do you now?” Claude said, grinning. “Will you let me teach you more?”

“M-more?” Lorenz semi-stuttered before Claude captured his lips in a kiss. 

The contact started out as gentle, languid, unhurried, Claude molding his mouth and body to Lorenz’s. Lorenz ran his hand slowly along Claude’s spine, luxuriating in the contact. It took a moment to realize that Claude had slowly nudged him to lying on his back, the other man half-lying on his body while maintaining their kiss. 

When the kiss broke, Claude murmured, “Nothing like some hands-on instruction, hm?”

“Claude what do you--” Lorenz started, but was promptly distracted as Claude left kisses on and along his jaw while simultaneously running his hand up Lorenz’s side; normally, Lorenz would have flinched and laughed because the touch was light enough to be ticklish, but there was simply too many things  _ happening _ . Claude’s body wasn't  _ heavy _ , but he  _ was _ built solidly, so there was  _ that _ which was a distraction, along with how Claude was leaving wet, warm kisses on his (Lorenz’s) neck, and he was  _ not _ expecting Claude’s touch to move to his (Lorenz’s) chest; Lorenz shivered when Claude’s touch ghosted over his non-Claude-covered nipple. 

“What are you--”

“Sh,” Claude hushed. “Let me touch you. Let me taste you. All you have to do is  _ feel _ .” 

It appeared that a Claude who was newly in touch with his magic was a  _ frisky _ Claude, and Lorenz’s head spun from the sensations. Of course, he had  _ read _ things in novels or overheard stories or seen couples, but it was  _ different _ when applied to him. His body was accustomed to fighting his arousal, his brain conditioned to remind him of some truly  _ awful _ things he had done in order to suppress his physical response, and something even older and forgotten kept him denying his reactions from fear, but Claude was seemingly determined to get a literal rise out of him.

Lorenz compulsively covered his mouth in an attempt to muffle himself, since no one needed to overhear, but that caused Claude to stop, then shift so he was supported over Claude. Lorenz opened eyes he hadn’t known he’d closed to see Claude watching him carefully.

“You don’t have to be quiet, you know,” Claude said. “Every time you’ve gone quiet, it has meant that I’ve hit on something awful. I like...I would  _ like _ to hear that you’re enjoying yourself, that what I do is making you feel something good. It’s not...too different from what you want, you know. You probably like hearing me enjoying myself, right? Because if other people can overhear, and know that it’s because of  _ you _ , they won’t make the mistake of trying to seduce me, right? Well, I also want people to overhear you, because it means you’re not embarrassed to be with me, don’t want to keep me like some dirty little secret…”

“I still don’t understand how anyone could be  _ embarrassed _ to be with you,” Lorenz said, moving his hand away from his mouth to press his palm over Claude’s heart. 

“Then why did you try to silence yourself?”

“It’s reflex, I suppose,” Lorenz said with a slight shrug. “Growing up, I was to be seen, not heard. Speak only when spoken to. When punished, if I cried or made any sound, the punishment grew worse or lasted longer. It has nothing to do with you.”

“It’s amazing you’re as opinionated as you are after being told to swallow your words so often,” Claude murmured. 

Lorenz smirked faintly. “All it meant was that my parents couldn’t check my opinions. They never asked, so I never offered, which is why the majority of my rule and policies have come as one shock after another to them.”

Claude snorted. “They deserve it for underestimating you and your strength.”

“Funny how often people still do that,” Lorenz said and carefully looped his arms around Claude’s neck. “It dawns on me, though…”

“Yeah?”

“You never underestimated me, did you?” Lorenz said, lightly running his fingers through Claude’s hair.

Claude shook his head slightly. “I hate your father, but he’s strong and crafty. I assumed his son would have inherited those traits. Because I hate talking about him, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why have I not managed to arouse you in spite of my damndest efforts?” Claude grumbled, his face growing dark. “I’m  _ trying _ and you clearly enjoy my kisses and stuff, so why…?”

“Ah,” Lorenz said, his own face burning as he continued to lightly, absently pluck at Claude’s hair. “I...There is slightly more beyond not being able to touch myself. ‘A true noble is in full control of his body at all times.’ When you get used to suppressing arousal because it’s seen as a loss of control and thus weak, it’s...difficult to allow oneself to be aroused. Most touch I’ve been subjected to was for punishment, so even though I...ah, like you touching me, I suppose a part of me is still worried that you’ll hurt me. I...also don’t think I’d be a particularly good partner, because when I couldn’t just will the erection away, I trained my body to climax as quickly as possible.”

“Your endurance can be increased with training and practice, so I’m not worried about that,” Claude said. “I  _ am _ worried that you think I’ll hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I’d ever do, right?”

“Oh, I  _ know _ that,” Lorenz said. “Nevertheless…”

Claude tilted his head slightly in thought. “Have you ever been given a massage?”

“A few times,” Lorenz said. “I didn’t enjoy them overmuch, even if my body appreciates them--I simply couldn’t relax. Why?”

“You seemed to like when I gave you a pseudo-massage when I washed you,” Claude observed. “Might I give you an honest-to-gods back massage? I won’t touch anywhere inappropriate or where you flinched before, I just want to...I want you to get used to feeling my hands on your body. Maybe then you won’t be so afraid I’ll end up hurting you? And you being able to relax might pave the way for allowing yourself arousal.”

Lorenz squirmed in discomfort, then sighed heavily and said, “You have a point. Very well. But, shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“We  _ both _ should be sleeping, but I don’t think that’s happening,” Claude pointed out. “So, could you roll over for me?”

“You have to get off me first.”

“I’d rather get you off.”

“Claude.”

“I know, sorry,” Claude said, giving him a rather cheeky half-smile as he shifted to sitting beside Lorenz’s body. “Come on, on your stomach for me.”

Lorenz sighed and rolled onto his stomach, propping his arms up on the pillow. “I’m curious, though. What were your elements?”

“Hm?” Claude said as he briefly left the bed to obtain some of Lorenz’s rose-scented lotion from its spot on the desk.

“Which elements called to you? During the visualization?” Lorenz clarified as he watched Claude return. 

“You should have  _ warned _ me that there’s a difference between someone with magic working you through a guided meditation and someone without. It felt so... _ real.” _

“It  _ was _ real,” Lorenz said and tensed slightly when Claude  _ sat _ on his lower back, but it would most certainly keep him from ever touching there, and the other man’s weight rested as much on his (Claude’s) legs as Lorenz’s back, so it wasn’t any harder to breathe--he could even feel that he would be able to  _ move _ , if necessary. He wasn’t trapped. “Your magic was always there, it just needed to be...coaxed into manifesting.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Claude said and shifted forward to place his hands palm-down on Lorenz’s shoulderblades, just holding there and letting Lorenz acclimate to the feeling. “Well, I think mine were wind and light.”

“Interesting, we both share an affinity for light,” Lorenz murmured.

“Really?” Claude said as the pressure on Lorenz’s shoulders lifted and, with a small pop, the scent of roses filled the room. “So, I could do that Sagittae spell like you?”

“Yes, that’s a light spell,” Lorenz confirmed. His skin prickled when Claude’s lotioned hands slowly spread across his upper back. “I’ll be able to teach you all the magic you need to know, it will simply...manifest differently than with me.”

Claude hummed in acknowledgement as his fingers gently, sadly traced the scars on Lorenz’s back. “I love you, Lorenz.”

“I am well aware of that,” Lorenz replied, unable to stop a wry note from creeping into his voice. “I owe you my response today.”

“So you do,” Claude said, keeping his voice very carefully neutral even as his hands continued to work. “You have until the end of the day.”

Lorenz fell silent, his eyes closing partway as Claude worked. In spite of his better judgement, he  _ liked _ Claude. A lot. He liked touching Claude and holding him and kissing him and--just being  _ near _ him. He never expected to have a passionate attraction in his life, but Claude’s love had shaken him to his core. It dislodged the spectres and venomous creatures that lived in the dark corners of his soul while simultaneously thrusting him into warmth and sunlight. It threw all his shadows into stark relief while being dazzling and delightful and  _ terrifying _ . Choosing Claude would take him down a wildly different path he had envisioned for himself. Was Claude worth that uncertainty and risk? 

Looking at it from the other perspective, however...how could Claude  _ not _ be worth the risk? The road that had been prepared for him was paved with stones made of ground-up human bone and broken hearts. It was sterile and blood-soaked, and walking down it would likely only end up wearing him down until he became another rock in the pavement. After having a taste of another’s honest passion and love, could he really resign himself to that existence? 

His eyes closed fully and it was easy to fall into himself, to just outside the graveyard that held the mausoleum that held both his memories and magic. The scenery had...changed, though. It had happened before, of course--he had many more sepluchurs and monuments to buried memories than when he was a child--but, this was…

With the gate to the graveyard behind him, he stood at a crossroads, heart in his hand, and two  _ very _ different people called to him from the diverging pathways. To his right stood his father in all his haughty imperiousness--no, perhaps that was wrong. It was himself, as it ever was, but warped by years of solitude and unmet expectations and a longing for warmth that was forever denied because he couldn’t find it within himself, and thus was unable to accept it from others. That path was wide, well-tread, lit with the same cold light that he remembered from Shambala. Taking that way would be easy, because it was what was  _ expected _ . There would be ups and downs, successes and failures, but it would be playing into the clockwork of the universe, and would be the  _ much _ easier course. It was a path that led to power, to prestige, to his name being inscribed in the history books as a man who helped chart the course of a nation--but  _ that _ would be his legacy. The Gloucester line might end with him, because doing so would cut off the final branch of the Agarthans in Fodlan, and he would rather redeem the Gloucester House and let it die than allow the parasitic roots to regrow. The new Fodlan didn’t deserve to be held down by the baggage of the past. 

The other path offered to him was coated in mist, small fractions of the rough-shod and unpaved road occasionally visible. Lorenz recognized himself again, but was almost...bewildered, as he looked not at himself as an adult, but as a child. The child who had kept on reaching out for love and affection only to be continually rebuffed until his forearms were bruised from how often and how hard his hands had been batted away. Who couldn’t remember a time when his parents embraced him out of genuine care, couldn’t recall hearing the words  _ I love you _ from the two people who his world revolved around. Who now, suddenly, had encountered someone who genuinely, deeply  _ cared _ about him. Who  _ cried _ over his pain, who grieved for him and his lost childhood. There was no telling where the path that led to Claude would wander, what pitfalls and traps waited along the way, what ghouls lurked in the shadows to tear him to shreds as he struggled blindly forward.

But, it wouldn’t be entirely blindly, would it? His childhood-self held a lantern in his hands, the flame within flickering and feeble, light leaking through the gaps in the antlers of the Golden Deer’s image. He’d have to move slowly, but there would at least be some illumination, and, perhaps, it would clear away the fog as they progressed. He didn’t know what lay at the end of that path besides  _ Claude _ \--there was no certainty how his life would play out if he took a chance on his heart. Perhaps the path would simply wrap back around, perhaps it would toss him off a cliff; maybe, it would lead him somewhere better than he could ever fathom. 

_ “I love you.” _

It was funny, how such simple words were enough to make the flame in the lantern glow a little more steadily, how it made Lorenz feel the chill of the grave a little less strongly.

_ All my life, I have taken the path of least resistance, _ Lorenz thought.  _ Siding with Claude was the first time I have ever gone against my father’s wishes, and in doing so, I...started to carve a new kind of existence for myself. I don’t have to...I don’t have to be who my parents expect or want me to be. I can...I can choose Claude. I can choose to learn what actual  _ love _ is. It’s going to be awful and wonderful, more painful than the worst torture and more pleasurable than anything else I’ve ever known. But, I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, and I achieve anything I set my mind to. _

The child-Lorenz gave him a shy, hopeful smile and bounded off into the misty confines of the pathway, and Lorenz brought himself back to awareness of his surroundings and his body. 

“You okay?” Claude asked when Lorenz let out a heavy, long sigh. “You went really quiet, but it didn’t...it didn’t  _ feel _ the same?”

“Was thinking,” Lorenz murmured as he stretched. Lorenz’s movement made Claude shift to kneeling instead of sitting on Lorenz, which gave him (Lorenz) the space necessary to roll over onto his back so he was looking at Claude. Claude was more hesitant about stradling Lorenz’s hips, but eventually settled gently back down. 

“Good thinking or bad thinking?” Claude asked, wary, as he tried to figure out where to put his hands that wouldn’t be suggestive.

Lorenz reached out and gently cupped Claude’s face, running his thumbs along the lines of Claude’s facial hair. “I choose you, Claude.”

“...come again?” Claude said, going  _ very  _ still, his voice tight with strangled hope. 

“I choose you, Claude von Riegan,” Lorenz repeated firmly, his face beginning to burn as he said the words. “It’s not going to be easy, and I apologize in advance for any pain I may cause, but if you--”

Lorenz was not expecting a  _ shriek _ of glee, nor to be pulled up from lying down and into a tight hug that forced all the air out of his body. Thankfully, Claude seemed at least partly cognizant of that--although the pained wheeze Lorenz gave might have clued him in--and lightened his hold enough that Lorenz could reliably breathe again. He was only given a moment to catch his breath before Claude was  _ kissing _ him; when Claude finally let him go, Lorenz wedged his hands between their chests to give himself some literal and figurative space to right himself. 

Claude, meanwhile, couldn’t have possibly looked any happier, and his smile chased away whatever lingering doubts remained clinging to the edges of Lorenz’s mind. 

“Say it again? Please?” Claude said, bouncing slightly with enthusiasm. 

“I choose you,” Lorenz repeated fondly, Claude’s joy endearing. 

Claude did a tiny, squirming happy-dance, then pressed another kiss to Lorenz’s lips. “Always say it that way, okay? Please? I know you’re not comfortable with  _ love _ , so just...always say it like that. Okay?”

Lorenz nodded. “I can do that.”

“Thank you,” Claude said, grinning. He nudged Lorenz back to lying down, then promptly did a very good imitation of an octopus, entwining himself around Lorenz and snuggling close. 

Lorenz couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, and he ran his hand down Claude’s spine and pressed a kiss to what part of Claude he could reach. 

“Chose me,” Claude murmured against Lorenz’s skin, and Lorenz could  _ feel _ Claude’s smile. “He  _ chooses _ me.”

Lorenz didn’t  _ mind _ the strong reaction, he was just mildly baffled by it, until giving it a little more thought--a choice was deliberate. He was deliberately  _ with _ Claude. It wasn’t something done out of obligation or respect or expectation. 

_ It is likely that in all of his other relationships they weren’t choosing Claude, but doing it because they were likely afraid of the repercussions of saying no to the king and/or heir apparent--or to a Fodlanese demon, _ Lorenz eventually decided. The possessive creature that still lurked in his soul growled at the thought of  _ others _ , particularly now that he had staked a claim on Claude’s heart. 

_ Mine. _

Claude’s hold eventually lightened to more embracing and less clinging. “I love you, Lorenz. What can I call you?”

“Hm?” Lorenz asked, having begun to doze slightly. 

“You’ve chosen me, so I get to give you a new title,” Claude said. “Boyfriend is tacky and lover implies a physical component that we don’t have yet. What name do  _ you _ want?”

“Beau,” Lorenz offered after a moment’s consideration. “And you? What do you want to be called?”

“It’s a bit of a mouthful, but I’m partial to Significant Other,” Claude said. “Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Lorenz said and pressed a light kiss to Claude’s head. “You will probably have to deal with a bit of an emphasis on the  _ my _ of ‘my significant other.’”

Claude chuckled and pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s chest. “Yes, I’m yours.”

Lorenz couldn’t prevent a happy sigh from escaping him and pressed a kiss to the top of Claude’s head, which earned him a happy hum and another kiss to his chest--although the contact lingered before he felt Claude taste his skin. Lorenz's face immediately flushed, particularly when Claude  _ chuckled _ .

“What’s so funny?”

“You taste like your rose tea,” Claude murmured against Lorenz’s skin. “Your bath products are really high-quality, aren’t they? That the scent and whatnot lasted all the way to now.”

“Of course they’re high quality,” Lorenz said. “Did you think I would use anything less?”

“No,” Claude chuckled. “Should figure out how to import it, then. Don’t want you to go without when you’re living with me.”

“Most ambassadors have housing of their own.”

“Most ambassadors also don’t have the leader of the country they’re serving in hopelessly in love with them. I want you by my side.”

_ He wants to marry me, _ Lorenz remembered. 

Having agreed to be in a relationship with Claude suddenly made  _ that _ possibility much more real, and it stole Lorenz’s breath away. 

_ No, no, remember what Dorothea said--you can date without tying your lives together?  _ Lorenz thought.  _ This isn’t like, like, being afianced, it’s just...a relationship. _

“Lorenz?”

“Ah, no, it’s nothing bad,” Lorenz said when he realized he’d stopped breathing. 

“Then what startled you enough to make you stop breathing?”

Lorenz pulled back enough to look down at Claude, who looked up at him with worry darkening his beautiful eyes. 

“Remember what your mother said? About Fodlanese people dating for marriage?”

Claude frowned and nodded, momentarily confused before comprehension dawned and his face darkened. “I thought I told you to forget that.”

“How can I forget the first time someone ever indicated they would want to bind themselves to me willingly?”

Claude’s face darkened a shade more and he muttered, “I am normally not glad that other people are stupid, but this is an exception.”

Lorenz slid his hand down Claude’s side and nudged Claude up so they were sharing the pillow again, then caught Claude in a gentle, leisurely kiss that lasted until the Cathedral bells finished tolling the hour. 

“It’s still early, we should try to get some sleep,” Lorenz said as the kiss broke. 

“Sleep?” Claude laughed. “I don’t think I could sleep if someone dosed me with a sleeping draught. You chose me! I’m--I’m touching heaven, higher than I’ve ever flown with Tempest. Your arms are the only things keeping me on the ground. If anything, I’m going to have to take all this time before the day officially starts to talk myself down so I’m not just smiling like an idiot the entire day.”

“If it will help bring you down from your good mood, we could start to discuss strategies to handle my family’s hostility upon your arrival with me. Because I’m not going to hide how I’ve chosen a future with you over the future they envisioned for me.”

Claude looked momentarily dazed before he shook his head. “Well, that was a whiplash of emotions I wasn’t expecting.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Fine. On a scale from Caspar Temper Tantrum to Hubert Death Threat, how serious will your father’s anger be?”

“Probably Battle of Grondor Dimitri levels of anger, except not quite so obvious,” Lorenz said. 

“Oof,” Claude sighed. “That level of blind rage, there’s no tip-toeing around it. He’d really be  _ that _ upset?”

“My father told me that I was to ensure you didn’t survive to graduation,” Lorenz said. “So, being in a relationship with you--”

“Wait, you  _ father _ told you to  _ kill me _ ?”

“...he did, yes.”

“Damn,” Claude huffed. “Wait, back then you were much more beholden to him, so why didn’t you…?”

“Because while I did bend to his wishes the majority of the time, coming to the Academy was...finally freedom. And you...you were unlike anyone or anything I had encountered before,” Lorenz admitted, his face flushing. “You were fascinating. Frustrating. I couldn’t kill an enigma like you without first unraveling the mysteries surrounding you, but that proved...consistently impossible. Then Edelgard declared war on the Church, and there were suddenly many more important things to worry about.”

“Well, thank you for not trying to kill me,” Claude murmured. “But, yeah, now I understand why your father would be apoplectic about you showing up with me as a significant other.”

Lorenz sighed and ran his fingers through Claude’s hair. “But, as I said, I’ve chosen  _ you _ . I want to see where this path leads; I already know where the life he and my mother have planned for me ends.”

“How will your mother handle me?”

“My parents are...compliments in many ways,” Lorenz said. “You are to accept no gift, no food or drink, tolerate no physical contact with either of them. She will try to kill you just as often and as subtly as my father will.”

“Jeeze, they’ll try to kill me in spite of the political fallout?”

“War is generally more lucrative than peace,” Lorenz sighed. “And there wouldn’t be many people who would be surprised that peace with Almyra lasted so short. It would be a return to the status quo, and there is a segment of the population that would cling to that.”

Claude grunted in unhappy understanding. 

“But, she will also...I think she will also treat it as if a skunk has walked into the room each time you show up. She’ll ignore you--yes, even if you address her directly, she will look at me or something else and pretend she can’t hear you--while looking like she discovered that someone accidentally tracked in some manure from the horse stalls. I’m not worried about my mother misbehaving in your presence otherwise. I...I am not looking forward to our conversation--hers and mine, I mean,” Lorenz finished, rubbing his eyes. 

“It’ll be bad?”

“It’ll be  _ something _ ,” Lorenz sighed. “Since the war ended, she has taken to providing me with a list of eligible and approved noblewomen each month and has been increasingly pointed about how I am letting the House down by remaining a bachelor and childless. The only reason she hasn’t tried to afiance me to someone is because she isn’t legally allowed to. I think she  _ has  _ attempted, actually, but being the one in power has its benefits.”

“She just...gives you a list of women and expects you to choose a bride from it?” Claude said mystified.

“Yes,” Lorenz confirmed. “But, I have chosen you, so her lists are pointless.”

“True,” Claude said with a tiny, pleased, almost smug smile as he intertwined their fingers. “Well, dealing with your mom will be easy, at least. Avoid her, and she’ll either avoid or ignore me in return, right?”

“Most likely. Unless you stay at my side the entire time we’re at the Manse, of course.”

“Would you like that?”

“Absolutely,” Lorenz answered. “But I also think that would increase the amount of time spent there, because I’d be distracted by you, so wouldn’t get as much work done as I maybe should have.”

Claude chuckled. “Oh, right. Question.”

“Yes?”

“Now that we’re together, am I allowed to kiss you whenever I want?”

“You already do, so there’s no point in saying no,” Lorenz said, his face heating.

“Am I allowed to hug you?”

“Not without warning,” Lorenz said. “You might be used to and desire touch, but it’s still unfamiliar to me. My parents  _ mocked _ couples and families who did more than walk arm-in-arm with the correct socially-appropriate distance.”

“That kinda makes me want to hug you  _ more _ to make up for lost time.”

“Please don’t.”

“I won’t,” Claude replied. “Only as many hugs as you want. And I can keep holding your hand like I have been?”

“Yes.”

Lorenz had a sinking feeling that he would end up agreeing to things more easily than he wished if Claude kept on giving him that blasted  _ smile _ that made his heart hurt in a good way.

“So,” Lorenz said, clearing his throat slightly. “We’ve set a few ground rules on what you can and cannot do with or to me, but...what about the opposite? What am  _ I _ allowed to do with or to  _ you _ ?”

“Well, tell me what you’d like to do to me, and I’ll tell you whether or not I allow it,” Claude said, and Lorenz  _ finally _ pinned the particular tone that laced Claude’s voice as what Claude deemed to be ‘flirty,’ although the low heat in Claude’s gaze may have aided that revelation.

“Am I allowed to kiss you whenever the mood strikes?” Lorenz asked, trying to recall what Claude had asked of  _ him _ .

“I think I already told you that I’m okay with you ambushing me with kisses, but I’ll say it again--yes, you may kiss me whenever you want to.”

“Is there...is there anywhere I’m  _ not _ allowed to kiss?”

“Nope, nowhere off limits. And you can hug me or touch me whenever and wherever you want.”

“So, I could theoretically touch you inappropriately in public and you would be okay with that?”

Claude actually seemed stunned for a second before laughing and nodding. “If you actually did that, I could die a happy man. The noble Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, engaging in something so dirty and deviant as groping his male significant other in public…”

Claude phrasing it in such a manner should have made the very idea anathema to Lorenz, but instead made his breath catch and his face burn, although how Claude’s own face had flushed and the rough purr in his voice probably didn't help matters.

“And what would  _ you _ do?” Lorenz asked, leaning in slightly. “We’re in a crowded marketplace, and I’m not the best at being  _ subtle _ , so you  _ know _ someone saw me touch you  _ inappropriately _ .”

Claude’s face darkened a shade further and he licked his lips absently, his breathing speeding up slightly. “Take your hand in mine, of course, to keep you from using it for less innocent purposes.”

“All the easier to pull you in for a quick kiss,” Lorenz murmured in reply, lightly brushing his thumb across Claude’s lower lip. 

“In front of all those people?” Claude responded slightly breathlessly.

“I  _ want _ them to know we’re together, because that way no one will make the mistake of flirting with you,” Lorenz said, the memory of how annoyed the waitress flirting with Claude had made him coming back to him, and that was  _ before _ he was in a relationship with Claude. “You chose me, and I chose you, and their jealousy over my good fortune pleases me.”

Claude looked absolutely  _ flummoxed _ , and Lorenz was going to ask what was wrong, but the words were cut off by a kiss that made Lorenz distantly burn in envy over whomever had taught Claude to kiss like he did. 

“You’d really do that?” Claude asked, his voice low and rough once the kiss finally broke.

“Of course,” Lorenz panted. “It might go against everything I was ever taught, but like I said, you chose me and I have chosen you, and I will  _ not _ regret that choice.”

“Then you know how we’re gonna deal with your parents?”

“...no?”

Claude straightened as much as he could while still being in as much contact as possible with Lorenz, and gave him the most imperious, dismissive look Lorenz had seen him ever wear and said, “ _ You _ are the Count Gloucester, an advisor to the Sovereign of the United Nation of Fodlan, and an  _ adult _ . You have helped craft the policy of an entire nation, and  _ also _ have full control over your own personal life and decisions for your future. They can leave their complaints about your decisions in writing, just like everyone else.”

Lorenz stared at Claude for a moment before he coughed, sputtered, then laughed. “Oh. Oh,  _ goddess _ .”

Lorenz could hear the panic in his voice. Saying that to his parents...his defiance had always been more subtle and indirect.Taking such a firm stand against them would be unprecedented.

“Lorenz, look at me.”

Lorenz did so, and Claude said, “You’re not fighting alone anymore.”

Lorenz blinked. 

“You won’t be standing up to them without anyone or anything to fall back on for support,” Claude semi-clarified. “You will have to stand up to them on your own, yes. But I’ll be here to help you recover from when they’re inevitably assholes.”

Lorenz let out a long sigh. “I’ve never...spoken to them so bluntly before.”

“Perhaps it’s time you did,” Claude said.

Lorenz sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. “I...Claude?”

“Hm?”

“Why am I scared?” Lorenz asked softly.

“Because standing up to your abusers is hard.”

“They didn’t abuse me.”

“Yes, Lorenz, they did,” Claude asserted. “But, I swear, it will be worth it. Because if you stand up to them, you’ll be  _ free _ of them, and won’t that be nice?”

_ Free of them? _ Lorenz wondered and frowned slightly at nothing in particular. “I...suppose.”

“It will be,” Claude insisted, then scooted back down off the pillow to slot himself under Lorenz’s chin and wrap one arm around his (Lorenz’s) waist. “I love you.”

“I will never regret my decision to choose you,” Lorenz responded and ran his hand along Claude’s spine. “We should plan for our travel. It’s not too long to Glouceter lands, but…”

Claude hummed and snuggled close enough that Lorenz could feel the ghosts of Claude’s breaths against his (Lorenz’s) skin. “Three days, right?”

“If we don’t stop anywhere and aren’t held up, yes,” Lorenz responded.

“And you think that it’ll take a week to get everything together?”

“Based upon our discussion with Marianne and Hilda, yes, I think that will be the amount of time necessary for me to find and compile everything.”

“And then we head to Almyra,” Claude said and nuzzled Lorenz’s neck. “I can’t wait to show you everything.”

“It will be an adventure,” Lorenz agreed, and pressed a kiss to Claude’s head. “What part of Almyra are you looking forward to showing me the most?”

It was...endearing, how enthusiastic Claude was when describing his homeland. He clearly wanted Lorenz to love it as much as he did; Lorenz had no strong feelings about the place either way, primarily because Gloucester lands were so far from the Almyran border.  _ They _ had never been an enemy he was concerned about. He caught his attention wandering time and again away from what Claude was saying and to  _ how _ he was saying it--the way his jade eyes sparkled; how tightly his fingers held onto his (Lorenz’s) hands and how often Claude attempted to gesticulate to prove a point, forgetting that he was still holding on tightly to Lorenz, and thus using their conjoined hands for emphasis more often than not; how he would sometimes slip into Almyran to describe something, then go back and translate; the combination of care, worry, and frustration when describing the people he governed. If Almyra was anything at all like her king, Lorenz was sure that he could spend his entire life learning her and never fully plumb her depths. 

Dawn gradually broke and the breakfast bell rang at the same time that Claude’s stomach growled pointedly, which made Claude smile sheepishly and Lorenz chuckle. 

“We must keep your body’s schedule,” Lorenz said and pressed a quick, light kiss to Claude’s lips. “Shall we go get breakfast together, my darling?”

Claude’s face darkened significantly and he smiled widely. “Yes, let’s.”

Lorenz pushed the covers off and stood, stretching, his shoulders snapping and popping as he did so.

“Can I hug you?” Claude asked.

“Yes,” Lorenz responded, giving Claude a fond, exasperated look. “Although you were just embracing me.”

“You’re unbearably attractive,” Claude said as an excuse and stood, pulling Lorenz into a gentle embrace that was somehow so...tender and reverent that it made Lorenz’s throat tighten. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Lorenz laughed softly and hugged Claude back. “I should be thanking you for choosing me, Claude. If you hadn’t chosen me…”

“No use thinking about that,” Claude said and his embrace tightened a slight notch before he released Lorenz and took a step back. “May I help you get dressed?”

Lorenz’s face inexplicably heated. “I...yes, as long as you let me help you, too.”

“Of course,” Claude responded with a dazzling smile.

Lorenz’s armor had been delivered to his room upon repair, and it was...both odd and comforting to be wearing it again. It really put an emphasis on how their time at the Monastery was over and their work would be starting in earnest. It had been fun, seeing everyone again and having the space to come to terms with a life-altering decision, but now it was time to get back to the business of running the country. 

Lorenz very quickly regretted allowing Claude to help, since he seemed compelled to have to kiss every part of Lorenz’s body before helping him into the appropriate item of clothing or armor, and it was endlessly flattering and extremely flustering. By the time they had Lorenz fully clothed, his face was as red as the roses he favored. 

“You do know you have established a dangerous precedent,” Lorenz said, heat lingering in his face and lacing his voice. 

Claude’s grin was pure mischief. “Oh have I now?”

“Yes,” Lorenz confirmed. “Come. Time to get you changed into your clothes.”

Claude’s room had somehow become a mild disaster zone in spite of him spending almost no time in it, and Lorenz shook his head upon entering, compulsively starting to pick things up and clean as Claude retrieved his clothing from his bags. 

Once the clothing was laid out, Lorenz shifted his attention from cleaning the room to Claude, who was giving him a significant look. 

Lorenz was  _ very _ cognizant of how much Claude liked being touched by him, so took the utmost care to always be in contact with him  _ somehow _ . Although, it was making sure to claim each body part with a kiss and a slightly-growled “Mine?” that made Claude blush most furiously and squirm. 

“You’re not ever helping again,” Claude wheezed after Lorenz finished properly tying Claude’s cravat. 

“I told you that you set a dangerous example,” Lorenz chided, then leaned in and caught Claude’s lips in a gentle, teasing kiss. “I believe I remember you saying something about finding the right buttons being both punishment and reward with me…?” Lorenz asked when he backed away.

Claude chuckled, his eyes brilliant and almost glowing with affection. “True. Right. Let’s get this day started, huh?”

Lorenz stepped back and executed a sweeping bow before opening the door. “After you.”

Claude shook his head in amusement and exited, Lorenz following him a step behind. Claude locked his door and Lorenz did the same to his borrowed room before offering Claude his arm; the man looked delighted and linked their arms. 

Even though they had done so before on multiple occasions, it somehow...felt  _ different _ . He must have been wearing an odd expression, since Claude asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lorenz said. “It feels different now. Why does it feel different?”

“Because there’s  _ meaning _ to it now,” Claude said with a soft smile. “Now it’s both flirting and, and...and claim?”

Lorenz considered the statement, then nodded in acceptance. “Mine,” he said simply and placed a kiss to Claude’s temple, which made Claude chuckle. The shift in their relationship must have been clear  _ somehow _ , even though Lorenz didn’t think that their behavior was terribly different from the past few days, given the twitters and whispers that followed them. Lorenz held down a seat for him as Claude went to get his food first; he wasn’t expecting Sylvain to slide in across from him and hold out a pamphlet.

“What’s this?” Lorenz asked, wary as he took the offered literature from Sylvain’s light grip.

“The guide I promised,” Sylvain said with a wink. “I tried to distill it to the basics, since admittedly most of the fun comes from  _ trying _ and finding out what works for you and your partner. And I think I completed it in just enough time. You’ll be leaving today?”

“That was the plan, yes,” Lorenz said and turned the booklet over in his hands, flipping it open to a random page. 

“Oho, curious already, huh?” Sylvain drawled, and Lorenz shot him a dirty look over the top of the page. 

“How could I not be when you actually followed through and made something like...this?” Lorenz said drolly. His eyebrows rose slightly at the  _ diagrams.  _ “Who did you promise favors to in order to get them to draw that?” Lorenz asked, pointedly closing the booklet.

“Manuela.”

“...I’m sorry, did you just say you got  _ Manuela _ to help you draw those images?”

“Well, yeah, she’s a physician, so she’s  _ good _ with anatomy. I actually got the best recipe for lube from her.”

“Hey, Sylvain,” Claude greeted, a note of confused suspicion in his voice. “Thanks again for helping earlier, by the way.” Claude put down his tray and noticed the booklet. “What’s that?”

“Sylvain actually wrote the instructional manual,” Lorenz said and put the book down as he stood. “Be right back.”

Lorenz did  _ not _ expect to come back to the two of them debating over the finer details of the booklet, but Claude had produced a quill and ink from somewhere and was adding notes in the margins while maintaining the discussion. He watched the two men bicker for a moment, torn between amused and exasperated; the conversation had gained the attention of more than a few of the students, and the emotions displayed on faces ranged from scandalized to intrigued. He restrained a sigh, then sat down next to Claude.

Claude’s non-quill-holding arm immediately wrapped around Lorenz’s waist and he pulled Lorenz close, maintaining his argument the entire time. Sylvain did not miss that, and quirked an eyebrow. Lorenz shrugged delicately, pressed a quick kiss to Claude’s temple, then poured himself some tea and set about consuming his breakfast. Sylvain looked oddly  _ smug _ before going back to semi-collaborating, semi-arguing with Claude over the contents of the booklet. 

“Claude,” Lorenz said, when it became obvious that he was more invested in the booklet than eating.

“Yes, love?” Claude said, shifting his attention to Lorenz. 

Lorenz lightly caught Claude’s chin in a grip when Claude looked over and said, “Your food is getting cold and we need to get moving. The booklet is coming with me, so you will have plenty of time to edit it as we travel. Eat your breakfast.”

Something almost  _ devious _ flashed across Claude’s face before he gave Lorenz a falsely innocent smile and said, “Kiss me and I will.”

_ Testing me, are you? _ Lorenz thought, distantly amused. Without hesitation, he shifted his grip and leaned down to press a kiss first to Claude’s forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his lips. “Eat your breakfast,” Lorenz repeated and let go of Claude’s face.

Claude looked absolutely thrilled; Sylvain looked like he was barely not laughing. 

“Did you come to just drop this off, or do you want to have breakfast with us since you’re here?” Lorenz offered to Sylvain after taking a sip of his tea. 

“Eh, might as well join you, since I’ll be leaving myself, too, after this,” Sylvain said. “Duty calls in the Kingdom territories.”

With that, Sylvain stood and menadered towards the hot line. However, before Lorenz could address Claude over him being ridiculous about the booklet and what exactly about it needed modification, Marianne and Hilda sat down across from them where Sylvain had vacated.

“Ah, we never finished our discussion yesterday, did we?” Lorenz said, feeling a tiny bit of guilt. “My apologies.”

“You have nothing to apologize over,” Marianne said. “We were actually thinking…”

“Yes?” Lorenz prompted when she trailed off.

“You have most of the important records and whatnot at your Manse, right? Why don’t we just travel with you and pick up whatever records you think are necessary to pass on? They’re less likely to go missing if there are no couriers involved and we can ask for clarification on the spot.”

Lorenz shifted in his seat in discomfort. “I would not force you to endure my family.”

“We’re offering to come along, you’re not ordering us,” Hilda pointed out and took a bite of her breakfast.

"Yes, but--"

“Oh, Lorenz! I’ve been meaning to ask--when do you have time to sit for your portrait?” Ignatz said, coming up on the non-Claude-occupied side, Leonie a solid, amused presence behind him. 

"I am returning to the Manse today, and will be traveling to Almyra once everything is in order there, so--”

“We’ll travel with you, then,” Leonie cut in. “Since it looks like this'll be your last time in Fodlan in a while, we should get it done now! It’s not like you can spend the  _ entire _ day working, right?”

“I, ah…”

“That sounds great,” Claude said, pressing two fingers to Lorenz’s lips to get him to stop talking. “Will everyone be able to leave today or do you need some extra time to get ready?”

“Nah, we’re ready to go whenever,” Leonie said. 

“Just need a little time to pack, but we should be ready in an hour,” Hilda said. 

“Wonderful,” Claude replied. “So, how about we set a meet-up time for 10AM at the Monastery gates? That gives us time to finish breakfast and get any last-minute things in order.”

“We’ll see you there,” Ignatz confirmed, and Leonie nodded her assent. 

“Have you had breakfast already?” Claude asked. “You could join us if you want.”

“Oh, we just finished,” Loenie said. “But thanks. See you at 10!”

Sylvain rejoined them not long after Lenoie and Ignatz left, and Lorenz was...mildly bewildered when it seemed like more and more of the Golden Deer House just seemed to glom together in a mini-reunion over breakfast. It left Lorenz feeling...warm, although how Claude never let go of his hand might have also contributed to that feeling. 

“I want to say farewell to Ferdinand--privately,” Lorenz said once the bell signifying the start of the school day rang and sent any lingering students in the dining hall bolting towards the classrooms. “Can I count on you to pack my belongings?”

“Of course,” Claude said and took the key to Lorenz’s room from him. “Just….I have nothing to worry about, right?”

“Not a thing,” Lorenz confirmed and pressed a kiss to Claude’s forehead. “Ferdinand was excited about the prospect of my being in a relationship with you when it came up as a topic of conversation.”

“Alright,” Claude said, his smile relieved. “I’ll see you at the monastery gates.” Claude hesitated for a millisecond before standing up on tip-toe and pressing a quick kiss to Lorenz’s lips. 

Lorenz couldn’t stop the reflexive smile before he turned and headed towards the Audience Chamber to hopefully locate Ferdinand. Thankfully, the man was indeed there with his beloved, and was also free to be flagged down and away from official duties.

“Is something the matter?” Ferdinand asked, frowning slightly.

“I’m with Claude,” Lorenz said, the sentence coming out more like one word than distinct ones. 

Ferdinand blinked. “Repeat that?”

“Claude and I are, ah, in a relationship. I’m  _ with _ Claude,” Lorenz repeated, his face promptly burning. “As of this morning.”

Ferdinand’s expression lit up and he grabbed Lorenz’s hands, giving them a firm, encouraging squeeze. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said, relief he hadn’t been expecting flushing through him. He hadn’t thought Ferdinand would disapprove or anything, but his friend’s happiness over his decision was...vindicating, in a way.“I’m sure the information would have made its way to you eventually, but I wanted to tell you in person. I also wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Ferdinand repeated. “Ah, you’re leaving today, are you?”

“Indeed. I’m returning to my territory to get everything in order, but will stop back here to pick up my escort-slash-security detail from Alois as we head back to Almyra.”

“I remember seeing that you requested one,” Ferdinand murmured. “Very well. Safe travels to you, my dearest friend. I wish you nothing but happiness.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said. He hesitated, then said, “Might I hug you?”

Ferdinand looked pleasantly shocked, then let go of Lorenz’s hands to embrace him. Lorenz returned the hug, feeling weirdly at peace. They let go on an unspoken agreement, and Lorenz smiled. “Don’t allow either yourself or your spouse to be overworked, okay?”

“Of course,” Ferdinand responded with a nod and matching smile. “Take care of yourself, too, Lorenz.”

“Naturally,” Lorenz said. “Now, while I trust Claude to pack, I’m sure he could probably use some help cleaning up the disaster his room has become.”

Ferdinand chuckled and made a shooing motion, so Lorenz bowed politely and pivoted, heading towards his temporary quarters. Everything...felt more  _ real _ now that he had told Ferdinand. He was, for the first time in his life, in a consensual, romantic,  _ loving _ relationship with another person, and it was...stimulating. Breathtaking. Terrifying. Beautiful. Of course, Claude was far from the kind of person he would have ever imagined himself being in a relationship with, but wasn’t that part of the wonder? In choosing Claude, he had taken a long step off of the path that had been curated for him and into something messier and potentially more exciting than he could ever fathom. He had...he had laid his first claim on a life of his own, and he would  _ not _ allow his parents to take it from him.

Lorenz wasn’t surprised to find Claude frantically cleaning away upon reaching the dorm, although he  _ was _ impressed to find all their bags securely and effectively packed. It was...alarmingly easy, slotting himself in to helping Claude clean; it even took Claude a moment to realize that he was being helped, it was that seamless.

“Oh, back already, huh? That wasn’t long,” Claude said as he and Lorenz stripped the bed together. 

“It was merely a goodbye,” Lorenz said with a small smile. “I also felt the need to tell him about us; I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!” Claude said with a smile. “I’m guessing he reacted well?”

“Indeed,” Lorenz confirmed. 

The rest of the work was done in comfortable silence, and both of their rooms were in decent enough shape in no time, and they were out of the dorm with time to spare. They were not the first ones to the gates, however; that distinction belonged to Leonie and Ignatz, who were both waiting on horses of their own. Claude was quickly absorbed into a conversation about Almyra with the two of them--it was becoming apparent that they were planning on sticking with them for the long haul--leaving Lorenz time to just...soak in their surroundings. He’d have to make sure to appreciate as much of Fodlan as possible as they traveled, since there was really no good way of knowing  _ when _ he’d be returning. 

To his chagrin, after Hilda and Marianne also showed up two minutes prior to the stroke of 10, almost everyone else in the Golden Deer House arrived to either see them off or leave alongside them. It felt...good, and Lorenz left for his Manse with a slightly rosier perspective than perhaps was warranted.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I debated writing chapters for the days of travel, but they were not adding anything to the story in a significant or interesting way, so welcome to the Gloucester Manse. As for content warnings, Lorenz's parents are assholes and thus a warning on their own; there are descriptions of handjobs, but it's nothing super explicit. 
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to everyone who reads, comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc. I appreciate it greatly.
> 
> And, finally, FE3H still doesn't belong to me.

Traveling with more than just Claude had taken getting used to; while Lorenz  _ had _ appreciated multiple watch shifts the past two nights, he could have done without Hilda cooing over finding Claude clinging to him (Lorenz) when waking them up for their shift and Leonie’s commentary about how he (Lorenz) snored--which was an effect of Claude clinging, since the man wasn’t particularly  _ light _ , and unless Lorenz was holding Claude rather firmly, Claude had a tendency to drape himself on top of him (Lorenz). Thankfully, no one had asked questions about Claude being insistent about giving Lorenz a back massage before bed as Lorenz read aloud his favorite book, since Lorenz had  _ no _ desire to explain the reasons behind the behaviors. Given the size of the group they were traveling in, animals gave them all a wide berth, and even though Leonie recognized signs of a struggle where other groups may have been ambushed by outlaws, it seemed like their group was visibly capable enough to not tempt bandits into trying their luck.

The past two mornings had been exercises in frustration and flattery--and the current one was shaping up to be little different--but Lorenz was determined that Claude would view his Fodlanese blood as something more than a source of  _ otherness _ . While he  _ said _ he was okay with learning magic, how much he was doing to avoid learning it said that a part of him was definitely  _ not _ on board.

“Claude, do I need to give Ignatz a script and have him guide you through the meditation?” Lorenz asked dryly as Claude was  _ clearly _ focusing more on the sound of Lorenz’s voice than the visualization he was  _ trying _ to walk Claude through. “He has some skill with magic as well.”

“It’s not my fault you have a sexy voice,” Claude semi-pouted, although his eyes were laughing. “And are overall distracting.”

“If you persist on thinking with your penis and not your brain, we will go back to lance practice,” Lorenz threatened. “At least you had to pay attention or else suffer immediate and painful consequences.”

Claude held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, I’ll focus.”

Leonie snickered as she stirred their breakfast in the cast-iron pot over the fire. Marianne had woken with the birds, as was apparently habit, and was slowly coaxing her fiancee to wakefulness, and it was saccharine sweet. Lorenz and Claude, meanwhile, had taken final watch together, so Lorenz was quite awake and exceedingly frustrated with Claude. Lorenz sighed heavily and took Claude’s hands in his own, scooting closer. He prevented Claude from being able to interlace their fingers and instead turned so their palms were facing up. 

“I’m going to summon my magic,” Lorenz said, catching and holding Claude’s eyes. “I want you to keep in mind something. Magic isn’t inherently good or evil. If you believe the scholars at the school of sorcery, magic is like...like another form of matter. Energy given thought and form and purpose. It is directed by the one who can wield the subtle energies and has no will of its own. Water doesn’t go out of its way to drown you, it requires another person holding you under to do that. It’s the same for magic. Okay?”

Cladue gave him an incredibly-usure-but-game smile. “Right.”

Lorenz shaped the Sagittae spell in his head and slowly brought the magic to his hands; he could feel his skin tingling with the power. Claude could apparently feel the presence of the magic, too, since his spine reflexively stiffened--admittedly, that wasn't the  _ only _ part of his body to have that reaction, which earned him a rather dry look from Lorenz. 

Claude’s face flushed and he muttered, “Just...teach.”

“Of course,” Lorenz said smoothly. Lorenz concentrated on shaping the spell, and four sparks popped into existence in the space over his and Claude’s palms, glittering and sparking, suspended in nothing. Claude looked....uncomfortable, so Lorenz said: “What’s wrong?”

“It feels...a little like my Crest is trying to activate?” Claude offered, his voice tight with apprehension. “Or a little like I’m trying to keep myself from coming. A sense of...potential?”

“Your magic is probably responding to mine,” Lorenz said with an encouraging smile. “I chose Sagittae for a reason--being a light spell, it also calls to your own magic. Don’t worry about losing control of your magic. Since I haven’t taught you the symbols and arrays yet to focus it, the energy will be too diffuse to do anything.”

“You’re sure?” Claude asked, suspicious.

“Absolutely. Embrace the feeling of the magic, nothing ill can come from it.”

Claude let out a long, slow sigh. “Alright. You're...sure nothing will happen?”

“Completely.”

Lorenz couldn’t restrain the smile when he felt Claude’s hands grow warm against his own, and the Sagittae spell sparkled and glowed a little brighter, but nothing else changed; that  _ lack _ of difference caused a flicker of relief to pass across Claude’s face.

“See? Nothing to be wary of,” Lorenz said before he dispelled the magic in a burst of light and sparkles, letting his own energy settle back in himself.

Claude’s hands, however, continued to glow slightly, the sparkles still playing across his skin. “Uh, Lorenz?”

“It’s okay,” Lorenz said. “Just give it time. It’ll fade gradually since I’m no longer providing stimulation.”

“Ignatz, are they still talking about magic or have they moved on to sex?” Leonie asked.

Ignatz coughed on the water he had been drinking, and Hilda laughed as Marianne looked as embarrassed as Lorenz felt. 

“Leonie,” Lorenz scolded as Claude chuckled. 

“It feels...weird,” Claude said, turning his hands as the light continued to shimmer around his fingers. “Something I’ll have to get used to, though.”

“That’s what the visualizations are for,” Lorenz said, now intertwining their fingers. “To get used to the feeling of the magic. The more comfortable you get with it, the easier it will be to shape the spells when I get around to teaching you that aspect. The sigils and symbols that you see on the spell circles are just meant as...”

“They’re like levers and dams,” Ignatz piped up. “The sigils are meant to help direct the flow of the magic into the spell you want.”

“Exactly,” Lorenz said, giving Ignatz a quick, small smile. “Do you think you’ll be able to listen to the visualizations, or will I have to continue to utilize a more hands-on approach?” Lorenz continued, looking back to Claude. 

“He can ponder that while eating breakfast,” Leonie announced. “Although I know what  _ I’d _ chose,” she continued, shooting Claude a wink that made him snort. “Nothing works quite like a  _ personal touch. _ ”

Ignatz’s and Marianne’s faces both did passable imitations of tomatoes as Hilda chuckled and Lorenz shook his head and pulled away from Claude to obtain breakfast for them.

“Oh, right,” Lorenz said as he handed Claude his bowl of the ‘breakfast stew’ Leonie made. “As I want all of you to survive this visit, I must put a few rules in place.”

“Rules?” Leonie asked, frowning slightly. 

“Do not accept any physical contact from either of my parents--no handshakes, hugs, kisses, anything. My father has a ring that has a needle hidden within it, and if enough pressure is applied during a handshake, the needle will deploy and poison whomever he is shaking hands with. Do not accept any gifts from them, do not accept any food or drink from them. Make sure Claude checks your plates and cups first, since his earring can detect poison. I don’t  _ think _ they’ll go out of their way to hurt anyone besides Claude, but I would much rather be safe than sorry.”

Marianne looked slightly disturbed. “You trust your parents that little?”

“They can be...vindictive,” Lorenz said, then focused on Marianne and Hilda. “I also apologize in advance for my mother’s behavior. I will make it as clear as possible that you two are afianced, but can’t guarantee that she won’t make any insensitive statements or implications, particularly since I’m sure she’ll see you both as...well, as suitable candidates as a wife for me.”

“Even when it’s obvious that you and Claude are together?” Hilda asked, frowning delicately.

“ _ Especially _ when it is obvious that Claude and I are together,” Lorenz replied, a thrill of something between anxiety and pleasure working through him at him affirming Hilda’s statement. “If anything, you two being affianced might make her work all the harder to set us up. It would be...restoring relationships to their Right Order. She will not see the beauty and affection in our choices, only that there is no possibility of children naturally, and will seek to rectify that.”

“By trying to break us up?” Hilda said, deeply incredulous. 

“Yes,” Lorenz answered simply. 

“Damn,” Leonie said, scratching her neck. “Do I have to worry?”

“Ah, no,” Lorenz said. “You’re a commoner and are already wed to Ignatz. In all likelihood, my mother will simply ignore you. I promise, I will try to control the amount of exposure you are subjected to as much as possible.”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Marianne said, voicing the thoughts that had plagued Lorenz the entire trip.

“It’s just gonna be a bit uncomfortable,” Leonie said with a shrug. “But let ‘em squirm. You coming here cuts out a lot of potential problems, right? What if someone intercepted the messengers or changed the documents or whatever? If they want to make things uncomfortable for you, I’ll make things uncomfortable for  _ them _ .”

Lorenz blinked, then couldn’t help but laugh.

“Lorenz?” Claude asked around a mouthful of stew.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Lorenz said. “I just...I had a vision of my mother or father making some kind of snide comment and then Leonie tramping in from the stables with mud on her boots and propping them up on the antique furniture. Mother would be  _ horrified _ and it would be...oddly delightful.”

“You’re giving me permission to be the extreme caricature of commonfolk? To play to their every warped preconception?” Leonie asked, curious.

“Oh, please do,” Lorenz said with a surprisingly easy smile. “I’m sure that my household will get a kick out of it. I would introduce you to everyone and warn them first, however.”

“You’re on speaking terms with your household?” Claude asked, seeming impressed.

“Of course,” Lorenz said. “It lets me keep tabs on my parents and I like being in the know.”

“Should we be aware of anything else besides ‘avoid your parents?’” Hilda asked. 

Lorenz paused, then shook his head. “My household is...relatively loyal to me and won’t harm guests. Most of them have suffered some form of hardship as a result of the war. There is nowhere in my Manse that is off-limits to you, so please feel free to roam. Our gardens are expansive, and the main building is one of the oldest outside of Enbarr. We should arrive at the Manse around mid-morning, assuming all goes smoothly.”

“How about we practice some Almyran until then?” Ignatz offered around a yawn. “I’m finding it fascinating, and Leonie has said she wants to travel through the country, so having some familiarity with the language is good, yes?”

Claude sighed overdramatically. “Why didn’t I think to bring Almyran language primers with me?”

Breakfast was finished in short order, the camp broken down, and the day’s travel begun all while an increasingly amused and overtaxed Almyran King attempted to teach very well-meaning but slightly inept language learners. Lorenz was, perhaps, a  _ bit _ smug that his pronunciation was closest to correct, but he had also been learning the longest.

Lorenz’s estimation of how long it would take to reach the Manse held, as around mid-morning they broke through the treeline and out onto the wide open field leading to the Manse. The sight of the building always brought up rather mixed feelings for Lorenz; while home, it never quite felt like  _ his _ . Leonie whistled, impressed.

“All that just for your family of three?” she asked. “It seems wasteful.”

“My household is far larger than necessary, so it’s actually mostly full. I also employ a fair number of my family’s bastards and discarded daughters, to my parents’ dismay, so--”

“I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?” Hilda said sharply, and Claude looked at him equally intensely.

“Ah, I found out when going through family records that I may or may not have six older sisters. As none of them had a Crest, they were thus seen as worthless by my parents since they had no bargaining power for marriage, and were sent to the local orphanage. I’m pretty sure I’m employing two to three of my older full-sisters, but there is no way I can know for sure. My father kept on trying for a second son but only ever ended up with daughters, and I employ more than a few of those women as well. You’ll find an uncannily large number of women at my Manse have purple hair, eyes, or both.”

“So you  _ aren’t _ an only child,” Claude said, sounding weirdly hurt.

“Claude, I wasn’t lying when I said I’m an only child--that’s how I was raised. Alone,” Lorenz said. “I didn’t know I had any siblings until well into adulthood and our relationship is employer and employee, not familial since they were technically disowned. Once my parents die I do plan to welcome them back into the family, if they want it.”

“And I thought my family history was troubled,” Marianne murmured.

Lorenz chuckled mirthlessly.

They had been spotted long before they reached the Manse gates, so there was a crowd waiting for them--thankfully, his parents were absent. 

“Welcome home!” Portia--his head maid and a woman he strongly suspected was his sister, given how they shared the same coloration and distinctive nose--said with a smile. “Who are our esteemed guests? You should have sent word ahead so we’d be more prepared for their arrival.”

“Their accompanying me home was a last-minute development, or I would have let you know,” Lorenz said and dismounted. “These two women are the Margravine Marianne von Edmund and her fiancee, Hilda Valentine Goneril. The artist is Ignatz Victor--I’m sure you’ve heard of him--and he is here to paint my official portrait. His wife, Leonie Pinelli, also known as the Blade Breaker II, served as our security.”

Twitters of interest and gossip buzzed through the assembled, and some craned to get a look at the famous notables who were visiting. There was no small amount of jockeying amongst the stablehands to take care of Marianne and Hilda’s mares, to the Margravine’s embarrassment and Hilda’s amusement, and Lorenz could faintly hear bets about whether or not Leonie could deadlift her slighter husband circulating. 

Even though Lorenz knew that Claude didn’t need the help, he held Spot steady as Claude dismounted, then took Claude’s hand and pressed a light kiss to the back of it, causing Claude to almost reflexively smile. After admitting that he liked Claude’s smile what felt like a lifetime ago, Claude gave that gift to him freely and at almost any opportunity, and Lorenz  _ luxuriated _ in it. 

His other hand went to the small of Claude’s back and he looked to Portia, catching and holding her eyes that were startlingly like his own. “This handsome man is Claude von Reigan, also known as King Khalid of Almyra. He will be staying with me and is to be treated with the utmost respect. Additionally, my parents are to be kept as far away from him as possible. Am I understood?”

Portia’s fair face was bright red, but she was wearing a wide grin. “Perfectly, Your Grace. His bags are to be delivered to your quarters?”

“Yes. The others should all be set up in the Rose Garden suites. Ah, right. Considering my parents may behave badly, I have given Leonie permission to be crude, so apologize if there is more clean-up than usual. I will compensate you for any extra work you and the staff may need to do.”

“It’s okay, she’s already won over some of them,” Portia commented dryly, jerking her thumb in the direction of where Leonie was proudly, one-handedly holding her spouse aloft over her head. Ignatz looked torn between terrified, aroused, and embarrassed. “Will Your Grace prefer I draw a bath large enough for two before lunch?”

“I would like to get some of this dust off,” Lorenz admitted. “Could you arrange the Duck Pond Terrace for lunch? My parents aren’t invited, of course.”

“Of course,” Portia repeated, her grin returning. “We’ll take care of arranging everything, you and His Majesty go get clean. Or dirty. Whichever you prefer.”

Lorenz snorted as Claude snickered, his face slightly darker than usual.

“Follow any requests my guests may make as you would my own,” Lorenz said. “They’re allowed free access to all parts of the Manse.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Portia said. “Anything else?”

“Reports are on my desk?”

“In your desk,” Portia responded. “Your father was getting nosy.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Portia smiled sweetly. “I like seeing him impotent.”

Lorenz’s smile was grim. “Indeed. I leave my guests in you and yours’ capable hands.”

“You have nothing to fear,” Portia said and gave him a perfect curtsey before she turned and marched off, barking orders and causing the crowd to scatter back to their usual duties.

“If all your household is like her, I can see why you don’t feel apprehensive about leaving,” Claude said and allowed himself to be guided into the Manse. 

“I, uh, hope you didn’t mind…?” Lorenz said, it dawning on him that  _ maybe _ he had been a bit too forward about their relationship with his staff. 

Claude shook his head and lightly patted Lorenz’s cheek. “Not at all. I’m glad that it is out in the open immediately, since I’m sure that if your Manse is anything like my palace, every member of the household will know within the half hour.”

“That’s the hope,” Lorenz said, watching Claude out of the corner of his eye. He knew that his Manse wasn’t anything  _ close _ to being a palace, but it had the weight of history--and dirty secrets--and some rather valuable relics. Everything was gleaming and spotless, and Lorenz knew when Claude noticed the subtle rose motif that laced all the decor, from the patterning on the marble floors to the crenellations and wall sconces. It wasn’t in-your-face, but the floral imagery was almost as omnipresent as the scent of the roses that bloomed in their garden. 

“You have a beautiful home,” Claude finally commented, and Lorenz didn’t stop his smile. 

“Thank you,” Lorenz responded. “Come, there will be plenty of time for you to explore at your leisure, since I’m sure you’re curious, but right now that bath Portia mentioned sounds heavenly.”

“Just...Lorenz?”

“Yes?”

“Is there anything else that you’ve told me but skirted the actual truth?”

Lorenz frowned, puzzled for a moment before letting out a soft “Ah” of understanding. 

“You must forgive me for not being fully forthcoming about my family situation,” Lorenz said. “I think we had that discussion when I wasn’t on...well, when you were still seducing me and I was more puzzled by your behavior by anything. But...I’ve been more honest with you than I think anyone else. I can’t think of anything else I may have neglected to mention.”

Lorenz was relieved that they were able to reach his suite without incident, and he knocked before opening the door; there were two maids busily setting up the bath, as he expected, and he hadn’t wanted to startle them. 

“The Manse is old enough that it doesn’t have all the conveniences of modern plumbing,” Lorenz admitted as he sat down and began to take off his boots. “Does your palace have such luxuries?”

Claude watched the women work for a moment before turning his attention to Lorenz. “We do, but plumbing is actually something Mom brought from Fodlan. All the baths are public, though, so having a dedicated tub as large as yours in a private suite is a luxury I don’t get, and I’m a  _ king _ .”

Lorenz chuckled, then laughed fully when Claude plopped himself down in Lorenz’s lap and started to take off his own boots. Lorenz wrapped his arms around Claude’s waist and leaned into his body, closing his eyes. 

_ If only I could avoid my parents the entire time, _ he thought wistfully.  _ Well, I won’t be successful at that no matter how hard I pray, so I’ll just have to steel myself to stand against my father for...I think all of the second time in my life. Funny how the other time also involved Claude. Perhaps it was a portent… _

“Does everything here smell like roses?” Claude asked.

“Most things do, yes,” Lorenz said. “We do have a rather abundant supply of them, but if there is a different scent you’re interested in, we might have it available. I know we have plenty of mint--poor Rosalind is in a constant fight with it to keep it from overtaking the herb garden. It makes the most delicious addition to the lemonade she makes in the summer, though.”

“Rosalind is your cook?”

“Yes, and I do like to think she’s one of the best--if not the best--in all of Fodlan.”

“Your bath is ready m’lords,” the maids announced before beating a quick, giggling retreat.

“Get off me so I can lock the door.”

“Fine,” Claude said and stood, allowing Lorenz to stand. Lorenz strode quickly over to the door and locked it; just in time, too, since he had taken two steps away when the door handles jolted hard, as if someone had tried to wrench open the door.

Claude quirked an eyebrow and Lorenz sighed. 

“Lorenz, I know you’re in there,” Lorenz’s mother said briskly through the door. “Open this door at once, we have matters to discuss.”

“We can discuss them at dinner,” Lorenz said. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I just arrived from a couple long days of travel and would like a bath.”

“Lorenz, open the door now.”

“No.”

“ _ Lorenz _ .”

“No,” Lorenz repeated. “I will see you at  _ dinner _ , mother.”

With that, Lorenz pointedly walked away from the door, in spite of his mother attempting to force entrance again, then knocking incessantly. 

“Love,” Claude said and took Lorenz’s hands in his when he entered the attached bathroom, with its tub full of lightly-steaming rose-scented water. “You did well. Just...why did she think she could just walk in?”

“When I was growing up, the lock was always on the outside,” Lorenz answered simply. “I also usually don’t lock my doors, if only because I want to be available should someone need me. But, the problem of my mother is going nowhere. She will stew until dinner--which you are  _ not _ taking with me.”

“But--”

Lorenz cupped Claude’s face and said, “Let me deal with the worst of their vitriol on my own. After lunch, I want to show you and the others around the Manse--the highlights tour--and we’ll decide what to do for the rest of the afternoon after that. You all can have dinner with my household. They are the more interesting and pleasant people anyway, and in spite of disliking each other, my family does have a  _ formal _ dinner every night. You can subject yourself to that tomorrow, if you wish.”

Claude sighed heavily. “I don’t want you to throw yourself to the wolves, so to speak, to spare my feelings.”

“You will be subject to their poor regard often enough during these next few days, don’t worry,” Lorenz said wryly before he untied Claude’s cravat. “Let me absorb the worst of their venom. I have a lifetime of knowing how to survive it.”

“You’re not alone anymore,” Claude siad and caught Lorenz’s hands, stopping him from continuing to undress him (Claude). “Stop being distracting.”

“The water will get cold,” Lorenz pointed out. “And we don’t have the time for  _ too _ leisurely of a bath.”

Claude sighed and let go of Lorenz’s hands, allowing him to finish stripping him. 

“Wait, are my clothes here?” Claude asked as Lorenz helped balance him as he stepped into the high-lipped tub. He shivered, then let out a sigh of pleasure as he sunk down into the water. “Okay, bath was a good idea.”

Lorenz chuckled. “Yes, your belongings are here. I took you the long way to my quarters to give my household time to deliver our bags.”

Lorenz stripped as well and picked out his cosmetics before nudging Claude a little bit forward and sliding into the bath behind him. Claude promptly leaned back so his head was resting on Lorenz’s shoulder, and Lorenz reflexively embraced him, his palms flat against Claude’s stomach. 

“I’m sure that Portia introduced herself and the other appropriate staff to Marianne, Hilda, Ignatz, and Leonie, but I should give you a run-down of my household,” Lorenz said and nudged Claude up to sitting before reaching over the side of the tub for a cup and the hair oil. “My head maid is Portia. She’s the one who really runs all the staff. If you want to know where some _ one _ is and who the best person is to help you with a task or question, look for her. My head butler is Balthasar, and he’s the person to find when you want to know where some _ thing _ is or where to find a point of interest in the Manse. He sticks out pretty badly, both as a man in a primarily-female household and for having brown hair and eyes. My head ostler is Beatrice, and you’ll find her busy in the stables all day, bossing around the other stablehands. She’s the only other person Shadow  _ likes _ . The head of the Manse guard is Viola. She fancies herself quite the marksman, so I’d be interested to see a competition between you two. She’s a bit boastful, but I’ve seen her hit a target at the end of my driveway from the Manse gates, and you know that is no short distance, so she  _ is _ good. I already told you Rosalind is my head cook...hm, who else…? Ah, right. Arthur is my father’s valet and Katarina is my mother’s maid, so if you are approached by either of them, know that my parents are actually the ones approaching you. Neither Arthur nor Katarina harbor any real loyalty to my parents, but are regularly used as cats-paws anyway.”

As Lorenz had outlined the general structure of the household, he had carefully washed Claude’s hair, and would have  _ sworn _ he heard Claude purring while he gave him a scalp massage. He carefully rinsed the oil out and, once done, Claude turned around so he was straddling Lorenz’s thighs. 

“My turn now,” he proclaimed happily and Lorenz didn’t bother to stop his smile as he bent his head forward so Claude could more easily pour the necessary water on it to wet it enough. The water was still clear enough that looking down necessarily made Lorenz’s gaze focus on Claude’s crotch--there was always a subtle, subversive thrill whenever he caught Claude even partly-aroused because of something  _ he _ did. It was a very potent, very physical sign of desire and pleasure, and the fact that he could provoke such positive, strong emotions and reactions in another person was both gratifying and embarrassing. 

_ What would it be like, to be so free with the expression of desire? _ Lorenz distantly wondered before he had to close his eyes to make sure no oil got in them.  _ To not treat spontaneous arousal as a personal failing, but rather something...natural, I suppose?  _

“Lorenz, you okay?”

Lorenz opened his eyes once Claude was finished rinsing out the oil and gave Claude a small smile. “Yes, I’m fine. I know my being quiet worries you, but my mind wasn’t going anywhere bad, I promise.”

“Then can I ask what you were thinking?”

Feeling oddly bold, Lorenz slid his hand along Claude’s thigh until his thumb rested ever so lightly against Claude’s half-erect member, the rest of Lorenz’s fingers spread across his hip and inguinal fold. “I was thinking that I like knowing that I  _ affect _ you. That my touch causes you to react. It is...it feels good.”

Claude’s face darkened slightly and he cleared his throat and said, “You’ve always  _ affected _ me, but it’s...it’s nice knowing that you like it, too, I suppose.”

After that statement, he leaned in and caught Lorenz in a languid kiss, leaning forward enough to push Lorenz into half-lying down, stretched out in the tub, the back of his head resting on the lip of the tub. 

_ Oh, _ Lorenz thought as he yielded to Claude’s request to deepen the kiss as Claude’s hands rested on either side of Lorenz’s head.  _ This is...nice. I  _ like  _ this. _

Lorenz ran his hands up Claude’s back, following the contours of musculature and pressed Claude a little more firmly against him. Claude hummed into the kiss, then gently broke it, leaving Lorenz panting, his face burning. 

“Question,” Claude said, his voice low and rough, his eyes smoldering in a way that made Lorenz’s breath catch with what might have been...anticipation. 

“Yes?” Lorenz asked.

“You’re being distracting again,” Claude said and caught one of Lorenz’s wrists, since he couldn’t just stop  _ touching _ Claude when his body was there and available. “I wasn’t allowed to touch you intimately in the baths at Garreg Mach because it was public,” Claude continued. “There’s only us here. Might I…” Claude’s face flushed dark and he cleared his throat, “Might I touch  _ more _ ?”

“I...I can’t guarantee a positive reaction,” Lorenz semi-stuttered, it feeling like his face must be incandescent from how hot it was.

Claude tilted his head, and struggled against a smile, only to fail, smiling widely. “Only one way to find out. Before you ask, yes, you are allowed to do the same.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz whispered. 

Claude paused, then voiced a happy groan. “I can give you a full-body massage tonight.  _ Yes _ .”

Lorenz coughed in an attempt to hide a smile. “So you can. Are you looking forward to having me under you, naked and vulnerable?”

Claude shivered and seemed to reflexively lick his lips. “Please don’t put it that way.”

“Then how would you prefer I put it? Spread out before you and pliant to your touch? On display and available to your hands?”

Claude groaned again in pleased dismay, and a part of Lorenz thrilled at how they were close enough that he could  _ feel _ Claude’s increasing arousal. 

“All bad phrases,” Claude said rather breathlessly. “You are being awful and  _ teasing _ me, Lorenz.”

“You look even more delectable when flustered,” Lorenz said. 

“And  _ you  _ need to stop talking,” Claude said and leaned in to catch Lorenz in a heated kiss. Lorenz was drowning in the scent of roses and the taste of Claude, and it was a worthy way to die. When Claude finally released him from the kiss, Lorenz found his breathing fast and irregular as he struggled to right himself. Claude’s kisses were strangely intoxicating, and he couldn’t restrain the quiet, shuddering sigh of pleasure as Claude pressed a light kiss to his forehead before--to Lornez’s amusement--picking up a washcloth from the tub side of the tub and the soap.

Lorenz had thought that Claude had been gentle and thorough when he had been washed at Garreg Mach, but his touch was as careful as if Lorenz was made of spun glass, and in spite of  _ asking _ to touch more, Claude was very careful to  _ not _ touch Lorenz’s groin or glutes. It felt..it felt almost like Claude was a sculptor, discovering the shape of his (Lorenz’s) form through touch and calling him physically into being. To be not just seen but tactically  _ experienced _ was not so much arousing as endlessly flattering. No one had touched him like he was  _ precious  _ before. He didn’t think he had blushed so much or so long in his life. Claude looked distinctly disappointed when he ran out of Lorenz to wash. 

“Come here,” Lorenz purred and reached out to Claude. He eagerly met Lorenz’s touch and allowed himself to be pulled into a gentle, tender kiss. When it broke, there was a kind of....soft giddiness lingering in the air, and Lorenz couldn’t suppress a giggle as he took the washcloth from Claude. “My turn.”

Lorenz was equally careful and thorough, but also more bold--while Claude had avoided touching Lorenz’s privates, Lorenz had no such reservation for the opposite, and the moan of pleasure he drew from Claude was more than enough to silence the part of him that was jabbering hysterically about how proper nobles  _ don’t fondle other men’s junk. _ There was too much of a thrill in how Claude’s head fell back against the edge of the tub with a light thunk, in how his body literally rose to meet Lorenz’s touch, and the scent of roses masking arousal kept his (Lorenz’s) gut-wrenching fear quiet.

A whine of protest escaped Claude when Lorenz’s hand moved on to clean Claude’s thigh, and the dark heat and  _ desire _ in Claude’s eyes made the possessive creature in Lorenz’s chest purr in its own form of pleasure. All of Claude’s attention was on him, after all, and it wanted Claude to look at no one else, think of nothing else but him.

“Use your words,” Lorenz said once he had finished washing Claude's legs, his voice a teasing growl that made Claude shudder and lightly bite on his knuckle in what Lorenz figured was an attempt to either distract himself or regain control.

“Touch me again,” Claude eventually mumbled. “I’ll direct you how.”

Lorenz smiled, and Claude swallowed hard, his eyes going slightly wide, which meant that there was likely an unintentional edge to his expression; thankfully, it didn’t seem to intimidate. Lorenz nudged Claude’s legs open a little further and kneeled between them, bracing one hand beside Claude’s head as his other hand reached between them and trailed his fingers down Claude’s fully erect phallus. The skin was somehow softer, warmer in spite of the tepid bathwater; he never really remembered what he himself felt like, if only because he had conditioned his body to come as quickly as possible to just  _ get rid _ of the pesky erection. Holding  _ Claude _ , though, felt...significant. Different. Somehow... _ delightful _ . He  _ wanted _ to touch Claude, to watch what pleasure was supposed to look like, to try to appreciate it at least second-hand. 

A vocal and annoying part of his upbringing was insisting that  _ this counted as sex _ , but Lorenz was, for once, grateful for the dangerous thing that stalked the halls of his heart, since that protest was viciously silenced, all of Lorenz’s attention almost exclusively focused on how Claude looked, on his panted directions. Claude hooked one leg over the edge of the tub, presenting himself more fully, and causing a slow shiver to work its way down Lorenz’s spine. The man struggled to keep his eyes open, moans interspersing the instruction--just a little firmer of a squeeze, slightly faster, twist his wrist as he reached the tip, oh gods just like  _ that _ \--and Claude’s hands clung to his (Lorenz’s) shoulders like they were the only thing grounding him. He seemed torn between wanting to just  _ feel _ while also wanting to watch Lorenz watching him as he unraveled. 

“So close,” Claude panted, his hips now reflexively meeting Lorenz’s strokes. “Just a little more.”

Lorenz kept up his stimulation, but shifted so he was leaning over Claude’s body, and growled in his ear, “Come for me, Claude.”

Claude gasped and shuddered, and he arched  _ hard _ into Lorenz’s hand, a few more erratic thrusts before he stilled; Lorenz stopped when he did so, resting his hand on Claude’s trembling stomach. Lorenz pulled back to find Claude giving him a  _ dazed _ look, lips parted as he panted, clearly trying to catch his breath.

“Not bad?” Lorenz offered.

Claude laughed and the  _ love _ \--not lust, Lorenz now had a better idea of what desire looked like on Claude--in Claude’s eyes left Lorenz feeling like he was somehow infused with light. “Yes,  _ not bad _ at all,” Claude responded. “You are not allowed to use that voice in me in public, though.”

Lorenz quirked an eyebrow and stood, the water long gone cold. He stepped out and retrieved the towels for himself and Claude, who was still slumped in the tub, looking dangerously thoughtful. “Claude?”

“Did  _ you _ enjoy yourself?” Claude asked and he stretched before standing.

_ Mine, _ the possessive thing said simply, clearly satiated on its meal of his own doubts and insecurities and Claude’s pleasure.

“Yes,” Lorenz said and offered Claude the towel. 

Claude took it from him absently and started to dry himself before abruptly startling and pulling back to look at it in something like  _ awe _ .

“Claude?”

“Where the hell did you get these? They’re the softest things I’ve ever felt.”

“Sreng,” Lorenz said. “Their textiles are some of the best I’ve ever imported. These were a gift from a Srengish Chancellor.”

“Damn,” Claude muttered and clearly luxuriated in the sensual pleasure of something  _ incredibly _ soft and fluffy. “I should try to set up something with Sreng, then. I’m sure we have something of value to them…”

“I’m sure you do, too,” Lorenz agreed and entered his suite. His and Claude’s bags were on a luggage rack relatively close to his bed, and he grabbed Claude’s, setting it on the floor closer to the bathroom. He rang the bell in his room in a request for servants, then went to his armoire, pulling open the doors and rifling through his clothes.

By the time the servants arrived to dispose of the used bathwater, Lorenz was fully dressed in one of his favorite pairs of tan suede breeches, a white, puffy-sleeved, lace-up, loose shirt, and a heavily-embroidered blue vest that was another diplomatic gift--this time from Dagda. He was pulling on his boots when there was a polite, rhythmic knock at the door, which let him know it was his household and not either of his parents. 

“Could you get the door?” Lorenz asked Claude as he fought with his footwear.

“Sure,” Claude said, still toweling his hair dry--apparently it held onto water like a  _ sponge _ , but he was at least respectable. Claude unlocked and opened the door, and Lorenz was treated to the very amusing sight of three of his maids all promptly turning bright red.

_ Claude is very attractive, _ Lorenz agreed. 

“Come in and take care of the bath, if you’d please,” Lorenz called out, and they all filtered in around Claude, who looked bemused. Their whispers weren’t as subtle as they perhaps hoped, since their commentary on Claude’s physique was positive and effusive enough that it caused Claude to preen, which made Lorenz chuckle as he finished wrestling his boots on. 

“Ready for lunch?” Lorenz asked and offered Claude his arm once the man had reluctantly surrendered the towel for laundering.

“I’m ready for non-Leonie food,” Claude admitted as he took Lorenz’s arm, making Lorenz chuckle.

The Duck Pond Terrace was a small gazebo that was situated on the edge of a large, natural lake on the Gloucester property. It had originally been the source of their water, but they had found a cleaner, deeper well sometime in the past 300 years, so it had been allowed to return to nature. Water lilies dotted the waterscape, dragonflies buzzing from pad to pad, with fish occasionally surfacing in an attempt to consume any bug unwary enough to come too close to the surface. A particularly cranky and vicious snapping turtle had also taken up residence in the lake at some point, and often got into fights with the swans and other waterfowl, but neither Lorenz nor his household were willing to interfere in that particular turf war. They just cleaned up after the brawls.

Marianne and Hilda were already there, feeding seeds to the ducks that had accumulated near where the terrace gazebo butted against the lake. It was domestic and sweet, and Lorenz felt inordinately pleased by the easy smiles on both womens’ faces. 

“Are we too late or too early?” Claude called out, catching their attention with a wave. 

“Early!” Hilda said with a grin. “Although not by much. If I understood Portia right, the food should be ready about ten to fifteen minutes from now. You certainly took a long  _ bath _ .”

Lorenz was proud that he didn’t blush  _ too _ fiercely, while Claude shrugged it off with a smile and said, “Well, what have  _ you _ been up to besides feeding the ducks? And where are Leonie and Ignatz?”

“Portia gave us the general tour,” Marianne said, looking away from the ducks. “Your stables are very nice, and Leonie met Vivi--Viola--there who was talking with Beatrice and they got along well.”

Hilda snorted at what was apparently an understatement. “They were talking about a competition for feats of strength and whatnot, but I’m sure they’ll turn up in time for food.”

“I’m unsurprised to hear that Viola and Leonie get along,” Lorenz chuckled and pulled out a chair for Claude, who took it with a small smile. “How do you like the Manse so far? I’m planning on giving you the full guided tour after lunch.”

“It’s quite pretty,” Hilda said and joined Claude and Lorenz at the table, Marianne following after finishing tossing the remnants of the small bag of seeds she had obtained from somewhere to the ducks. “You know, I don’t remember my family ever being invited to a gala or an event here…”

“They most likely were, but were also smart enough to decline,” Lorenz said as he compulsively helped Hilda and Marianne to their seats.

“Oh?” Marianne asked, sounding morbidly curious. 

“About two hundred years ago, my family hosted a large gathering of notable dignitaries. It was supposed to be the event of the year, set on the anniversary of the Alliance’s Founding,” Lorenz said, sitting down next to Claude. “About half the attendees died over the course of the next few days of a mysterious illness. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Since then, we’ve been invited to other’s soirees out of caution, but any invite sent out by my family is usually regarded with suspicion, so we haven’t played host to an actual party in over two centuries. I don’t know if the other noble families  _ know _ that’s why they’re not supposed to accept an invite from my House anymore, but it’s the truth behind the wariness.”

“Wow,” was all Hilda had to say, looking mildly disturbed. “You weren’t kidding when you said to be careful around your family, huh?”

Lorenz smiled bitterly. “I have tried to distance myself from the actions and behaviors typical of my line, but my father is a Gloucester through and through and my mother is...a good match.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Marianne asked, looking  _ extremely _ serious. 

“Because I trust you,” Lorenz said. “And it’s all an open secret anyway--you need only read a history book to come across all the various instances of my family’s...indiscretions.”

Marianne’s expression softened into something like thoughtful consideration, and she stared pointedly at her interlaced fingers.

“You know I won’t let any harm come to you while you are  _ my _ guests,” Lorenz said, reaching out to gently brush his fingertips against her hands. “I very firmly believe in the rules of hospitality and follow them rather religiously.”

Marianne looked up from her hands and held Lorenz’s eyes. There was strength and steel in her gaze that hadn’t been there when they were younger, and it was...strangely seductive. Not that he  _ wanted _ her--not with Claude beside him, his fingertips wedged between Lorenz’s thigh and the chair--but it  _ appealed _ to him. He had made the right choice as to whom should lead the Alliance.

She eventually nodded slowly. “Okay.”

The slightly tense silence was broken by rather raucous laughter approaching, and Lorenz turned to see Leonie and Ignatz approaching, alongside Rosalind herself wheeling a large cart laden with what was likely their lunch.

Rosalind was one of his father’s many bastards-- _ this _ Lorenz was sure of because Rosalind had been up front with him when he had interviewed her for the position of head cook--amethyst eyes paired with the more typical Fodlanese brown hair. She was a delightful woman, and had judged Lorenz for Lorenz, and not for his father; when she had come to the conclusion that he wasn’t a miniature version of his father, the quality of his food had shot up, while his mother still regularly complained about the meals she and her husband received. 

Lorenz felt no need to correct the behavior.

“Lunch is served,” she proclaimed in a melodic contralto upon arriving at the table, and Lorenz gave her a smile.

“Thank you for bringing it all the way out here,” Lorenz said as she uncovered and set out the plated food. 

“It’s a nice day and you wanted to show your guests the beauty of the Manse, it was no trouble,” Rosalind semi-tutted and lightly, affectionately pinched Lorenz’s cheek. “I’ll send someone in a half hour to make sure everything is okay.”

“I’m sure it will be wonderful.”

Rosalind laughed and shook her head slightly, admiring her handiwork for a moment. “Well, that’s that. Enjoy your meal!”

“I heard you were introduced to Viola and Beatrice,” Lorenz said to Leonie and Ignatz as they joined them at the table.

“You have a  _ lot _ of women in rather prominent positions,” Leonie said, clearly impressed. “I thought your House was so stuffy and old that it’d be rather stuck and stubborn in how the labor and positions are divided between men and women.”

Lorenz shrugged slightly. “I wouldn’t call myself necessarily  _ enlightened _ , but my experience at the Academy and during the war significantly broadened my perspective on hiring practices and what jobs were ‘suitable’ to or for specific people.”

“Oh, by the way,” Leonie said. “We watched and helped Rosalind with this, so we know it isn’t poisoned or anything.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said, sincerity lacing his voice. “So, you’ve met Portia, Beatrice, and Viola. Were you introduced to any more of my staff?”

Conversation during lunch was a leisurely meander, frequently interrupted by curious ducks who wanted to beg scraps of bread and the like from Marianne, since she had been the one primarily feeding them earlier. Ignatz found it charming and whipped out a sketch pad from  _ somewhere _ to sketch Marianne being surrounded by emphatically and insistently quaking waterfowl as Hilda giggled almost uncontrollably. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, we can probably take a tour on our own,” Marianne said once the ducks were chased away through the joint efforts of Leonie, Claude, and Lorenz--who were the ones willing to risk getting bit by annoyed ducks. “I’d rather tend to the business of the Alliance.”

Lorenz nodded. “Very well. Once we’re done lunch, I’ll take you to my study and we get to work. Leonie, Ignatz, Claude--you’re welcome to join as well if you’re interested.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’m interested in looking around the Manse,” Ignatz said, readjusting his glasses. “You have quite a few rare pieces of art, if I recall correctly.”

Lorenz nodded. “Please explore to your pleasure. Leonie? Claude?”

“I want to get to know your staff better,” Leonie said. “They’re all interesting people so far and the headache of running a mercenary company is enough for me--I don’t need to know about all the Alliance politicking that is going on in the background.”

“I’ve an academic interest in how the Alliance is faring,” Claude said. “I’ll stay beside you.”

Lorenz was both distantly suspicious and utterly relieved that his staff was running effective interference between his guests and his parents--he’d have to give them all bonus hazard pay for the duration of their stay, as their lunch concluded without any incident and they were able to make it to his study/office without running into his mother or father. 

Aside from his personal suite, Lorenz spent the majority of time in his study. It was less  _ a _ room and more a second suite that took up a significant chunk of space; it had been new construction, the first addition to the Manse in over 300 years. His parents had railed against it, but he had too many bad memories of his parents’ study and the ‘official’ library to get any kind of constructive work done in those rooms. It was also...something that was utterly and uniquely  _ his _ . He had chosen the furniture or commissioned it to be made, he had picked out the art, selected the paint color for the walls, the type of flooring, and the rugs that were scattered about. He hadn’t strayed from the rose theming of the rest of the Manse, since he  _ did _ like the flowers himself, but he personally thought his decor choice was tasteful and primarily understated. The one thing that stood out a little bit was the miniature lemon tree that a diplomatic contact in Brigid had sent him, which he was unnecessarily and overly fond of, which was why it had its own special corner. It was a complex of three rooms, all connected to a large, main ‘sitting room.’ One room was his private library with an overstuffed armchair and footstool, large fireplace, and a desk that concealed decades worth of notebooks. The second attached ‘library’ held all the official records that he needed to consult regularly, and one of its walls was dominated by a map of the known world. The final attached room was a tea room that had floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked their massive rose garden. The sitting room was dominated by his executive desk and had enough furniture and space to accommodate at least a dozen other people. 

Lorenz gestured that the group make themselves comfortable and walked over to his desk. He slid his hands under the desk and pressed the correct sequence into the lock and disengaged it. He pulled open the top drawer to find a number of bundles of letters all carefully labeled in Portia’s obsessively neat handwriting, detailing the days of arrival and the origin of the letter. He rubbed his eyes as he recognized the distinct signs of tampering--probably his father’s work, which was why they had been moved into his desk instead of on it. 

“Wow, you get a  _ lot _ of mail,” Hilda observed. 

“I have many contacts throughout various countries,” Lorenz said as he quickly sorted the correspondence. “I keep in touch with my native contacts in Sreng, Dagda, and Brigid as well as the ambassadors I have assigned there, and then there’s a matter of lesser Alliance nobles coming to me for mediation and other tasks. Merchants also contact me fairly regularly to complain about the state of the roads, bandits, etc., which I forward to Garreg Mach and the Knights. Ah, right. I’m sure your adoptive father has taught you the value of delegation?”

“He has, yes,” Marianne said, already looking a little overwhelmed.

“I’ll introduce you via letter to my contacts and you can include a letter of introduction if you want as a part of my message,” Lorenz offered. He opened a different drawer and took out his reading glasses--he hated it, but he  _ did _ need them for when he knew he’d be looking at other people’s handwriting for long periods of time. He assumed it was because of a childhood spent in too-dim light reading too-small text for hours on end. He slipped them on, then found the letter opener in the same drawer and began to almost shuck open the envelopes, setting them aside. 

“You probably know more about the merchants and their needs and wants than I do,” Lorenz continued. “Your dynasty is more  _ financial _ while I’m an old  _ political _ dynasty and--what?”

The last question was directed at Claude, who had tilted his head up and away from the letters to look at him instead. Claude’s gaze was somehow scrutinizing and Lorenz’s face flushed. 

“I know, they look silly,” Lorenz grumbled and nudged Claude’s hand away. “But I only need them for long periods of reading.”

“No, they don’t look bad at all,” Claude said quickly. “I just hadn’t thought it was possible for you to become somehow  _ more _ attractive than you already are.”

Lorenz scoffed even as his face burned. “Nonsense.”

Hilda was laughing without sound while Marianne’s face was about as red as Lorenz imagined his own was. 

Lorenz took a moment to compose himself, then picked up the stack of letters from Alliance territories and walked over to where Marianne and Hilda were seated at the round table that dominated the center of the main sitting room. “You likely already know some of the people who wrote me these letters, but…”

Lorenz was pleased to discover that Marianne had at least  _ heard _ of all the Alliance nobility that remained, and they spent the majority of the afternoon writing letters to everyone who was even passingly important, informing them of Marianne’s ascension to leader of the formerly-Alliance territories. Hilda was, to Lorenz’s pleased surprise, amazingly invested and rather astute as well, discussing how to approach the various problems that had been dumped in Lorenz’s lap with Marianne as they worked. 

Claude, naturally, made a nuisance of himself, playing with Lorenz’s hair or tracing the embroidered patterns on the shoulders of Lorenz’s vest, and being overall distracting--at least until Lorenz snapped and told him that his poetry was in a puzzle-locked drawer in the private library.  _ That _ caught Claude’s attention and made him vanish into the room, purpose in the set of his shoulders. 

About an hour later, Claude yelled out, “You didn’t tell me the poetry was in a  _ cipher! _ ”

“You’re smart, decode it,” Lorenz yelled back, and Hilda chuckled as Marianne giggled. 

“How did Manuela get a hold of your poetry, then?” Claude responded from the library.

“Those are my poetry archives, I transcribed them all from my working notebooks for posterity. I write plenty, but dislike most of it, so what you’ve found is the poetry I liked enough to keep.”

“Can I at least know the keyword to the cipher?”

“No.”

“ _ Lorenz. _ ”

“No.”

Claude called him something in Almyran that was likely unkind, and Lorenz simply shook his head, amused and flustered. The puzzle lock wasn’t particularly  _ easy _ , so he was both impressed and annoyed that Claude had figured it out in a comparatively short amount of time.

They worked and strategized until there was a distinctive, rhythmic knock on the door and Lorenz looked up as Portia entered. 

“Dinner should be ready in fifteen minutes,” she proclaimed. “Will your guests be joining you and the former Count and Countess?”

Lorenz shook his head and took off his glasses. “No. I would prefer they take dinner with you all. How many times did you have to intercept my parents and keep them from causing...mischief?”

“No more than usual when you’ve come back from abroad,” Portia responded with a shrug. “We like to give you time to go through your mail before being inundated with their inanity.”

“Well, thank you,” Lorenz said, strangling his surprise. Lorenz stood and swept the addressed letters into a neat pile. “These will need to go out tomorrow. I think that will be all the work I can manage for today. My family’s formal dinners usually last for an hour to two hours, and I doubt I’ll be of a mind to get anything done afterwards. Please enjoy your meal with my staff, I’m sure that you’ll find them all lovely people.”

“Lorenz, you know I’d go with you,” Claude said from the doorway to his private library, worry shadowing his eyes.

Lorenz smiled faintly. “I know, but let me wrangle my parents’ foul humors for tonight. Now, if you’ll excuse me…?”

Lorenz didn’t wait for a response from any of the assembled, leaving his study and hanging a right; he wasn’t surprised when he was brought up short by Portia after he had walked a few yards down from the study.

“You should let Claude attend,” she said firmly.

Lorenz shook his head resolutely. “I should, but I won’t. I...I need to deal with them. I have too many things to tell them that will upset them, and I don’t need to embarrass them or myself in front of my significant other.”

Portia gave him a  _ long _ considering look and said, “You sure you aren’t just being needlessly self-sacrificing? Because that’s what I’m getting.”

“Perhaps I am still unused to having people in my corner, so to speak,” Lorenz admitted. “But I also am used to my parents’ venom. This will be no worse than any of the other dinners I’ve had upon coming back from a diplomatic mission and they seek to eviscerate and downplay my accomplishments. Probably.”

Portia looked extremely unconvinced and more than a little worried.

“What  _ aren’t _ you telling me?”

She sighed heavily and took an envelope out of her apron. “Don’t open this until you’re alone, okay?”

Lorenz took the clearly tampered envelope from her fingers and slid it into the inner pocket of his vest. “I promise. Is that all your warnings?”

“The former countess was a bit irate over you locking her out of your room,” Portia said. “Choosing your lover--no, you said significant other, right?--over her and your familial duties. Very uncharacteristic, you clearly must be ensorceled or something.”

Lorenz shifted on his feet. “Perhaps not so much ensorceled as…”

“In love?”

Lorenz felt his face heat and he cleared his throat. “Well, there’s that, yes. But, I’ve also gained some...perspective...on my family.”

“Uh-huh,” Portia said, curious. “You’ll have to tell me about that later. Don’t worry about your guests, you know they’ll leave Rosalind’s domain groaning about how they can’t possibly eat another bite.”

Lorenz chuckled. “Of course. Thank you, Tia.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” she said and gave a rather overly-dramatic curtsey before bustling back towards his study to tend to his friends. 

Lorenz caught himself smiling, but quickly turned on his heel and headed towards the formal dining room. He ran through the first few steps of his usual meditation as he walked, trying to find serenity when he was well aware that he’d be stepping into a verbal combat ring the minute he set foot in the dining room. He stopped in front of the doors to the dining room, straightened his vest, made sure that Cladue’s gifted cufflinks were properly secure, ran his fingers through his hair, and then pushed the double doors open, striding in with far more confidence than he actually felt. 

The first rule of dealing with his parents was bluffing--bravado from him usually threw them slightly off-balance. Both of them were already seated and looking like they had accidentally drunk wine that had aged into vinegar. 

Lorenz had heard throughout his life that he was the spitting image of his father. They shared the same eye and hair color, the same narrow nose, thin lips, and aristocratic bone structure. The differences lie in height (Lorenz was taller), hair style (the former Count kept his hair short), eye shape (Lorenz’s took after his mother’s), and the fact that the former Count managed a decent mustache while Lorenz’s facial hair only ever looked like he had glued pieces of thread to his face. 

Lorenz got his height and eye-shape from his mother, but that was all. She bore a Minor Crest of Macuil and had vibrant fuschia eyes and hair; it was rare to see her and her husband standing side-by-side, though, as she stood a good head or more taller than him, which was nigh intolerable for the former-Count. Lorenz had always found it amusing. 

Lorenz took his seat at the head of the table--it was symbolic, pointed, and something he had instituted almost immediately after ascending to his position because it reminded his father that he  _ wasn’t _ the one holding the reins anymore--just as the clock rang the dinner hour. Portia rolled in a cart with their dinner on it the moment that the chimes stopped reverberating in the Manse, looking utterly serene. She deposited the necessary food with a quiet, polite hostility to the former Count and Countess, then placed Lorenz’s with slightly more care and the smallest of encouraging smiles. She curtseyed perfectly, then left, all without breaking the uncomfortable, oppressive silence. 

Lorenz fully intended to force his parents to speak first, since that would let him strategize which particular points of news to bring up when. 

“I’m wounded that you took so long to finally pay us some mind,” the former-Countess finally said, breaking the silence that had only been punctuated by the clatter of cutlery. 

“You know there is usually a backlog of work when I return from a diplomatic mission,” Lorenz said mildly as he ate. “This time was no different.”

“You brought a bride with you! Of course this time is different!”

Lorenz couldn’t quite help but smile faintly--Claude would likely look ridiculous in a wedding dress. What was traditional Almyran wedding garb, anyway? “Oh, did I now?”

“Marianne von Edmnud is the better political choice, so I imagine that she is your betrothed?”

“No,” Lorenz responded simply.

“Then the Goneril girl? A bit wishy-washy if memory serves me correctly, but--”

“Lady Goneril is Margravine Edmund’s fiancee,” Lorenz said while looking his mother dead in the eye. “They are to be married next spring. With Lady Goneril’s aesthetic sense and the Margravine’s financial resources, I’m sure it will be a celebration that will be discussed for years. I look forward to seeing them wed.”

His mother laughed dismissively. “Oh, then you still have plenty of time to break up that farce.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will,” she insisted as she cut her food into precise, equal pieces. “You’ve been neglecting your duties as Count in favor of playing diplomat to those barbarous foreign nations. You need a wife and an heir.”

“I will not be breaking the engagement between Margravine Edmund and Lady Goneril,” Lorenz semi-repeated. “I admit that the majority of the noblewomen my age are currently espoused or engaged, but I suppose that I may find a spouse in Almyra, since I’ll be stationed there as the Fodlanese diplomatic representative for the foreseeable future.”

“What? Why would such a backwater and backwards country as  _ Almyra _ need as distinguished a diplomat as a Gloucester? At best they deserve the former Count Bergleiz’s youngest son. He’d fit in right with them with his uncouth and foolhardy ways,” the former Count said, speaking for the first time after taking a long draw of wine. 

“It was rather difficult for Sovereign Byleth to ignore a direct and explicit request from the Almyran King.”

“Almyra actually has a  _ king _ ?” the former Count said, incredulous. “Their  _ nobility _ must be quite the sight. The servants at Garreg Mach must have had their hands full with cleaning, considering how filthy Almyrans tend to be.”

“I heard they all live in tents and sleep on the ground,” the former Countess said. “Can you imagine? They must have such problems with bugs and lice.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “You should tell the Sovereign you’ve reconsidered. I’m sure she’ll be able to find someone better suited for such an uncivilized assignment.”

“Khalid has informed me that his palace has modern, internal plumbing, so the Manse is actually a step down for him, given that you have forbidden me from installing such an upgrade in favor of keeping the  _ integrity  _ and  _ history _ of the building,” Lorenz said mildly. “This also implies that his capital has a capable sewer system, so I imagine it’s cleaner than many Fodlanese towns and cities.”

“Almyrans are liars,” the former Count said dismissively. “But, you’ve spoken to this Almyran King? He was actually capable of communicating in Fodlanese?”

“Almyrans are some of the most forthright and honest people I’ve had the opportunity to deal with,” Lorenz said firmly. “Yes, I have spoken with Khalid at length and in Fodlanese. The two languages are quite similar, given that both are derived from Nabatean. I’m learning Almyran myself.”

“You are to stop at once.”

“No. I  _ will  _ be fluent in the language of the country I will be stationed in.”

“And I’ve already told you that you’re to find a way to back out of this  _ assignment _ ,” his mother said. “It is beneath you.”

“I’ve already arranged with the Sovereign that Margravine Edmund is to be in control of Alliance territories,” Lorenz said and took a sip of the wine provided with dinner.  _ His _ was excellent. “I have also sent out letters to the lesser nobility and other dignitaries informing them of the transfer of power.”

That was half a lie since the letters were written but not sent, but his parents didn’t need to know that. 

“What?! You-- _ what _ ?” his mother said, her hand going dramatically to clutch at her heart. “You’ve relinquished Alliance territories to another? How could you?”

His father’s face had turned a rather deep shade of puce. It was...bizarrely gratifying. However, his color quickly returned to normal and he gained a devious look to his eye. “As you don’t have an heir and cannot rule from another country, I assume you will be returning the title of Count Gloucester to me?”

“No,” Lorenz said.

“Come now, if you’re serious about this ambassador business, you won’t have the time to think of your own people and care for your Fodlanese responsibilities. It only makes sense to return power to me. I ruled more capably than you for decades, it will be an easy transfer of power.”

“I will not return power to you, because you will use precedence of my having controlled the Alliance as Count Gloucester and attempt to wrest power back from the Margravine Edmund,” Lorenz said. 

“As would be the best course of action for the good of all of Fodlan,” the former Count said. “I remember meeting her a few times, she won’t be able to withstand the pressure of ruling. Better that I clean up the mess you made of things than have her simply muddy things more.”

“My policies have improved the lives and livelihoods of  _ all _ Alliance citizenry, and helped us recover from the war in record time,” Lorenz said firmly. “I have  _ muddied _ nothing--except, perhaps, the line between the nobility, merchant class, and commonfolk.”

“It’s not  _ right _ , son,” the former Count said condescendingly. “You’re giving the poor folk wild ideas of equality when they will never be the equal of a Crested noble. Better that they make peace with their lot in life than aspire for the sun and fall back to the ground burning to ash from their misplaced ambition.”

“The current Lord Gaspard used to be a common thief,” Lorenz pointed out. “He is now nobility and enjoys a fruitful partnership with the Countess Galatea.”

“There is a good reason why the Alliance sought independence from the Kingdom,” the former Count said dismissively. “And this Lord Gaspard is  _ minor _ nobility at best, and only achieved his rank due to heroism during the war.”

“And yet he, a commoner, distinguished himself enough to be elevated to the nobility,” Lorenz said. “If that does not say that anyone can be noble, regardless of whether or not they have noble blood, then nothing does.”

“People like him are flashes in the pan,” the former Count said. “The majority of commonfolk are painfully banal, dreary, and stupid.”

_ And your perspective is why so many nobles are disliked, _ Lorenz thought to himself. “Perhaps it is because you only ever treated them as if they were so. People rise to the expectations set for them.”

“You certainly haven’t,” his mother said drolly. “Only ever a disappointment in spite of how well we raised you. You should be married by now, I should have grandchildren to be blessing my days, but instead you languish long into bachelorhood. Are you  _ trying _ to end the Gloucester line?”

“I won’t deny that the thought has crossed my mind,” Lorenz replied in the same tone. “Fodlan deserves better and with us gone, so will the final lingering traces of the Agarthans and the misery they engendered.”

His mother laughed. “Come now, Lorenz, don’t lie to me. You’ve always wanted children and a wife. You’ll give me grandchildren and continue the Gloucester line. It’s your fate. Decline the ambassadorship, get the Margravine to return stewardship of the Alliance to you, and fulfill your duty. I’m sure that if  _ you _ are the one sending out invitations, we can have a grand soiree and find you a suitable wife to settle down with. Once you’re married and with a baby on the way, I’m sure you’ll rethink your radical and foolish ways.”

“I do not want a  _ suitable _ wife, I want a spouse I am  _ in love _ with,” Lorenz said. “All my friends and comrades have found and married for love. I deserve the same happiness.”

The former Count snorted. “Love? Happiness? Nonsense. If that is a jape, it is a poor one. You will never find a woman who loves you, but might yet find a woman who can at least make up for your severe deficiencies.”

“Perhaps it is because you are too feminine yourself?” his mother said, giving him a critical once-over. “No woman  _ really _ wants to marry another. They need a strong, masculine hand to guide and discipline them to reach their full potential. I suppose you’re simply too soft to be seen as a worthy partner. I wasn’t as hard on you as I should have been. Such is the folly of a mother’s affection.”

“Motherly affection?” Lorenz pseudo-repeated. “When on earth did you ever show me any  _ affection _ ? Unless you are attempting to call your punishments  _ affection. _ ”

“Everything I did was for your betterment and development as a noble, strong man,” she said almost mournfully. She turned to her husband with large, sad eyes, her lip trembling slightly as if she was on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, Albany. It was my weakness that gave you an inferior son.”

“We both did our best, Phebe,” the former Count said and put his hand over hers in a mockery of comfort. “But even the most masterful craftsmanship can’t make up for flawed materials.”

Lorenz  _ barely _ kept himself from rubbing his temples. “Oh, yes. I am  _ flawed _ because I do not want to be a villain, because I consider the greater good over the benefit of our House alone. How  _ unworthy _ for me to care about other people, to desire friendship and happiness and love.”

“The only truth in this world is power, my son,” the former Count said. “And yet you seem so content to simply  _ give it away _ . You must be  _ diseased _ or perhaps I thought too highly of your mental faculties, saw too much of myself in you where there is none. We are now suffering for your bleeding heart and weakness.”

“I limit your budget because I did  _ not _ appreciate you undercutting my attempts at reform,” Lorenz said. “You are not  _ suffering _ . If anything, I have provided you with more comfort and luxury than you had previously because merchants no longer fear for their lives while traveling in Alliance territories.”

“House Gloucester is no longer feared!”

“Thank the goddess for that! We are  _ respected _ now!”

“Fear is the one thing to which all men bend.”

“Fear  _ breaks _ people. I have walked on fields made of shattered bones for long enough, I wish to encourage fertile growth in former graveyards,  _ and I have _ . Just because I rule differently, govern in accordance with philosophical principles that run counter to everything the Gloucester House built itself on doesn’t mean I’m doing it  _ incorrectly _ . If anything, I am the first one to do right by our people!”

Lorenz actually raising his voice to his father made his mother give him a look of shocked outrage. “Lorenz! Apologize at once.You are being  _ immensely _ disrespectful. It’s a shame I can no longer reprimand you like you deserve for acting out so.”

“I have not said anything worth apologizing for,” Lorenz said mulishly.

“You are being boorish,” his mother reprimanded. “Is it because you’re in some kind of menage-a-trois with that awful mercenary woman and her foppish husband? Have commoner sensibilities rubbed off on you?”

“Leonie and Ignatz are exclusive to each other,” Lorenz said. “I have found  _ commoner sensibilities _ to be more compassionate than many nobles, so if I have taken on some  _ commoner sensibilities, _ then I am better for it.” Lorenz took a deep breath, strapped steel to his spine, and said, “I also do not need your assistance in finding someone to marry. I have found someone on my own. Someone who  _ loves me. _ ”

“Who?” his mother asked reflexively. “I saw everyone you arrived with, if it isn’t the Margravine Edmund or Lady Goneril or that vulgar mercenary, then--”

“Khalid,” Lorenz answered shortly, cutting his mother off. “I am in a relationship with Claude  _ von Riegan _ . The  _ Almyran King _ .”

The silence that follows his proclamation was  _ brittle _ and hostile.

_ Probably not the best way to announce my relationship, _ Lorenz distantly thought as disgust settled on his father’s features.  _ Not that it would have gone well no matter how delicately I phrased it. _

“So, I ended up with all daughters anyway,” the former-Count spat. “And a  _ von Riegan _ ? This must be divine retribution.”

“Lorenz, you  _ mustn’t _ . You need children. He is--he is a  _ phase _ , he’s done something to you, bewitched you, you’re not  _ thinking _ . You’re overstressed and overworked, you should--you should return the title of Count to your father, let him take care of governing while you find your way back to the natural course of things,” his mother semi-pleaded, reaching out to him. 

“I am telling you this out of courtesy; you have no input in this decision,” Lorenz said more calmly than he felt, evading his mother’s touch. “I have chosen Khalid. That is why I’m not going to change my mind on the ambassadorship. It is why I am not going to request Marianne return power to me. I  _ will _ be going to Almyra, and if Khalid ever officially asks me to marry him,  _ I will say yes. _ ”

His father stood abruptly, violently, and Lorenz snarled, “Sit  _ down _ , Albany. I am not done speaking.”

While he didn’t sit, his father nevertheless froze in place, startled.

“Khalid is foreign royalty. He is an extremely important political dignitary, my personal feelings for him aside. If you make an even  _ passingly _ aggressive move or attempt to harm him, I will consider it an act of treason and will have you exiled,” Lorenz said, keeping his voice soft and even so his parents were forced to strain to hear him and, thus, pay him attention. “Considering I’m good friends with dignitaries in Dagda, Brigid, Sreng, and Almyra, you’re going to have to travel  _ awfully far _ to find anywhere willing to take you in.”

“Not kill us?” his father snapped in return.

Lorenz tilted his head up slightly, stared his father down, and said, “I will not succumb to the  _ proud _ Gloucester tradition of parricide.”

Heavy silence dropped through time like dollops of molasses, and the frozen tableau was broken only when the double-doors opened to reveal Portia coming in with the empty cart to pick up their plates. She quirked an eyebrow at Lorenz as she approached, and he gave her a brittle smile.

“Portia, I have a question for you.”

“Of course, Your Grace. How can I assist?” she asked with a polite curtsey. 

“If I invited you to return to the Gloucester family, would you take my offer?”

Portia’s eyebrows shot up to nearly her hairline. “What the fuck? I mean, excuse me, Your Grace?”

“You and I both know that there’s a high probability that we are siblings,” Lorenz said, and his mother made a strangled sound. “Would you like to reclaim your Gloucester name?”

“Not if it means having to call them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’,” she said as she collected Lorenz’s plates. She was trembling slightly.

“Oh, I would never make you do that,” Lorenz said. “However, there needs to be a Countess Gloucester to hold down the House, so to speak, while I am in Almyra and I think you would do well in the role. You already run the Household anyway while I am away on diplomatic missions and I trust you to keep the best interests of my--our--people in mind;  _ all _ of them.”

“You are not handing over control of the Gloucester House to a mere  _ maid _ !” his mother shouted and pushed away from the table so she was standing as well. His father’s eyes snapped in fury.

“I’m not,” Lorenz said smoothly. “I’m handing it over to the daughter who you abandoned because she was Crest-less. She is merely reclaiming her birthright--should she choose to do so, of course. I won’t force her to take on the responsibility if she would rather remain estranged from you. The goddess knows I won’t blame her if she chooses to remain a commoner than be associated with our House.”

“You will regret your impudence and arrogance,” the former Count snarled before he whirled with a flutter of robes and stalked out of the dining room; his wife followed after him shortly.

Lorenz slumped back in his chair once he could no longer hear their footsteps and rubbed his eyes. “Well, that went about as well as expected.”

“Lorenz?”

Lorenz looked up to Portia, who was carefully transferring over his parents’ plates to the cart, appearing intensely thoughtful. “Yes, Tia?”

“Were you serious? About...about me becoming Countess?”

“Absolutely,” Lorenz said. “I was planning on waiting until they died to offer, but they seem dreadfully healthy and I  _ do _ need someone to steward the House while I am abroad. You can’t look between us and not see the family resemblance, and I uncovered that I might have quite a few elder sisters when going through family records. You came here for employment because  _ you _ wanted to know, too, didn’t you? Whether or not you’re a Gloucester scion.”

Portia smoothed out the front of her apron in a clearly reflexive nervous gesture and chewed on her lip for a moment. “What if you’re wrong?”

“Then I made a capable woman nobility,” Lorenz said with a shrug. “The Sovereign will not take issue with it. If you want, I could ask Rosalind instead, as she’s one of my father’s  _ many _ bastards, and I’m sure she’ll find sadistic pleasure in forcing my father to acknowledge her half-noble bloodline. She calls my father ‘dad’ to his face every now and then just to see him go puce, after all.”

Portia snorted at that. “I believe it. Well, I...a part of me has kinda always hoped for this offer, but now that you’ve made it, I’m not so sure.”

“Think it over,” Lorenz said. “I’m pretty sure that Celia is also a full-sister, so will offer her the same opportunity if you decline.”

“Celia? Ah, the weaponsmistress?”

“Yes, her.”

Portia paused, then laughed. “You’re right! I suppose that makes sense why we alternate between getting along like thieves and hating each other’s guts, if we  _ are  _ sisters. I’ll...I’ll give it some thought.” She blinked, and a genuine grin grew on her face, “Can I call you my baby brother?”

“If you agree to be Countess, there’s nothing I can do to stop you from doing so,” Lorenz responded dryly, unable to keep himself from smiling faintly in return.

Portia laughed. “Consider it added motivation to agree to join the insanity that is House Gloucester. Do you want more wine?”

“No, I want to bury myself in Claude’s arms and ignore that this dinner happened,” Lorenz said and stood. “You should probably warn the rest of the household to stay away from my parents’ quarters. I don’t want my father to try to abduct any of my household to work out any remaining aggression on them once he finishes raping my mother.”

“Most can read the Manse’s atmosphere pretty well, but I’ll let everyone know,” Portia said, paling slightly. “I know if may be stupid to ask, but--”

“They’re married, so my hands are tied,” Lorenz said with a defeated shrug. “Even if she reported it as rape, there is no law that  _ won’t _ see it as anything other than marital troubles and assume that, as she is married, any and all sexuaul encounter is consensual by default--regardles of whether or not that is the case.”

“That’s wrong,” Portia said quietly.

“One of the many loopholes in Fodlanese laws that I just...haven’t had the time to close,” Lorenz said. “If you agree, I’ll give you a crash course on the basics of Fodlanese law.”

Portia tucked her chin slightly as she thought, her fingers playing with the cloth of the apron. “I…”

“Don’t give me your answer now,” Lorenz said. “Drop off our dishes, warn the staff, and then take time to think. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Indeed.”

Lorenz left the dining room, and a part of him swore he could hear his mother crying, like he used to hear so very often when he was a child and living in a room that was attached to his parents’ suite, even if he knew that the sobs were imagined echoes of memory and guilt. 

When he arrived at his own suite, it was to find it empty. His shoulders dropped slightly. 

_ I suppose that our dinner wasn’t as long as it usually is due our argument, _ Lorenz thought and began to strip. The envelope Portia had given him dropped out of the vest as he did so, and he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It was clearly tampered with, the envelope already jaggedly open. He walked over to the writer’s desk and put it down, tracing the edge with his fingertips, pondering what might be within. Certainly nothing  _ good _ if Portia had given it to him on the sly. 

_ I’m not ready, _ Lorenz decided and placed it within a drawer. He continued to strip, folding his clothes before placing them in the dirty laundry bin at the foot of his bed. He had just finished washing his face and hands and pulled on a pair of sleep pants when there was a weirdly tentative knock at the door.

“It’s unlocked,” Lorenz called out, and the door promptly opened. 

“You’re done your meal early,” Claude said as he stepped in and closed the door, locking it behind him and leaning against it. “Are you okay? Portia seemed worried and warned all the staff--and us--away from your parents’ wing. You had an argument, I’m guessing?”

“Of sorts,” Lorenz hedged. “Among other things, I...told them we are together and that if you ever officially ask for my hand, I will say yes.”

Lorenz did not often catch Claude off-balance, but the other man looked absolutely flummoxed, his face about three shades darker than usual, eyes wide, and posture tense. “You...you really said all that?”

“Yes.”

Claude took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out in a gusty laugh/sigh. “Well, yeah, I can see that pissing your dad off. The thought of his son marrying a von Riegan would have likely been anathema to him.”

“Well, that particular statement was the end of our dinner,” Lorenz admitted. “We argued about a few other things and he tried to convince me to hand power back to him since I’m going to be serving in Almyra, but  _ that _ will only occur over my dead body, and I have no intent on dying. So, I may have also revealed that I employ my elder sisters and asked Portia if she would like to ascend to Countess, since I’m certain you can see the family resemblance. That  _ displeased _ my mother.”

“I didn’t want to say anything, but yes, you look  _ very _ much alike,” Claude agreed and pushed away from the door, walking over to Lorenz. “It was a very strange sensation when you met her at the gate. It was almost like I was seeing double.”

Lorenz smiled faintly and reached out to Claude as he approached, pulling him into a hug and breathing in Claude’s scent as Claude hugged him back. “Imagine how  _ I _ felt when I interviewed her for the position of head maid.”

Claude snorted and nuzzled Lorenz’s chest, pressing a kiss to his skin. “It must’ve been a bit of a shock.”

“That, my dear, is putting it lightly.”

Claude chuckled and pulled back to look at Lorenz. “By the way, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

Lorenz quirked an eyebrow. “Am I now?”

“You also aren’t--how’d you put it again?--on display and available to my hands,” Claude said and nudged Lorenz towards the bed. “Strip, then lie down on your stomach. You deserve a massage after a tense family meeting anyway.”

Lorenz smiled wryly and removed his sleep-pants and underwear, tossing them on the chair that was associated with his writer’s desk, then going over to his king-sized bed and stretching out on his stomach, propping his head up on one of his pillows. It was rare that he slept in the nude, but he was reminded that he actually had  _ really nice _ sheets and blankets. He had a bad habit of working to exhaustion and then passing out.

Claude sighed happily. “I’m never going to get used to seeing you naked. You’re a  _ vision _ .”

“Oh, quiet,” Lorenz muttered, his face flushing. “There is probably lotion in the bedside table. It was a gift from my trip to Sreng. The weather there killed my skin.”

“Rose scented?”

“No.”

“What? Blasphemy.”

“It was from  _ Sreng _ . It’s some kind of berry-scent.”

“Still scented. Good,” Claude chuckled and Lorenz watched him rifle through the drawer and eventually emerge successful. He placed the lotion bottle on the desk, then inexplicably stripped to his waist before climbing onto the bed with the lotion and using Lorenz’s butt as a seat. 

“A question before you start,” Lorenz said, weirdly struggling to not laugh.

“Hm?”

“What’s the story behind the tattoo?”

“Um.”

“Claude.”

“Uhhh…”

“ _ Claude _ .”

“I was sixteen and a moron?”

“Really? That’s it?”

“Hey, I slip up  _ sometimes _ . I had just tamed Tempest when all the other young men who tried along with me failed, so was feeling pretty hot and a well-known traveling tattoo artist had made a stop in the capital, so I actually threw around my weight as a royal and got an appointment with her. That’s...really it. It’s a nice memory, I suppose, since I do love Tempest, but, ah...there’s no real  _ meaning  _ to the design aside from ‘it looks cool.’”

“So the Master Tactician didn’t always plan out everything two steps ahead, hm?” Lorenz said, laughter lacing his voice.

“Bah, I haven’t missed  _ that _ monicker,” Claude said and Lorenz heard the top of the lotion bottle come off. “So  _ pretentious _ .”

Lorenz chuckled and closed his eyes, the feeling of Claude’s slick, warm hands against his shoulderblades becoming quickly comfortable and familiar. 

“You’d get a rose tattoo, wouldn't you?” Claude murmured after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“I’m not a fan of needles. Getting my ears pierced was traumatic enough that the thought of getting poked by a needle enough times to get a tattoo makes my skin crawl.”

“You have pierced ears?”

“Had. The holes closed, oh, years ago now. When I was younger, I liked my mother’s jewelry and wanted to wear earrings, too, so convinced one of the maids to pierce my ears. It...did not go well.”

“Yikes.”

“Indeed.”

Silence draped around them as Claude worked, and Lorenz felt...heavy. Drowsy. Safe. He was in his home, the door was locked, and he had a gorgeous man tending to his body with a thoroughness that was flattering.

“Should try to give you a massage one of these days,” Lorenz mumbled into the pillow. 

“I will never turn down the opportunity to have your hands on my body,” Claude answered in a low, hot purr that made Lorenz’s heart stutter and heat curl through him. He was distantly pleased that when he felt Claude brace his hands on his (Lorenz’s) glutes as he shifted to work on Lorenz’s legs, the feeling of  _ dread _ brought upon by touching that area was manageable. 

_ Claude loves me, _ Lorenz thought, unable to stop a smile.  _ If he ever hurts me, it will never be physically and never intentionally. _

It was odd, to feel so absolutely  _ certain _ about something, but...he was.

Lorenz was floating on a haze of idle contentment when Claude purred in his ear, “Think you can turn over for me?”

Lorenz grumbled in wordless discontent--he had been  _ comfortable _ \--but did as asked, stretching as he settled on his back. Claude made an odd sound, so Lorenz opened his eyes to see Claude looking...extremely pleased with himself. He caught Lorenz looking, so turned a smile to him.

“Go back to relaxing,” Claude encouraged and gently trailed his fingers over Lorenz’s eyes, which Lorenz reflexively closed. His body  _ did _ feel a little strange, but he assumed it was because he was finally  _ relaxing _ for the first time in what was probably weeks. 

_ Wonder what could have Claude so pleased, though, _ he thought, the musings surfacing and popping like bubbles.

“If you tickle my feet I will kick you,” Lorenz informed Claude when he reached that part of his body, causing Claude to chuckle.

“I won’t,” Claude said. “Well, I won’t  _ this time _ .”

“I’m completely serious.”

“Sure you are.”

Lorenz did not expect to nearly be put to sleep by Claude working methodically on his feet, of all things. The only thing he expected even less than  _ that _ was a sharp spike of sensation and pleasure as Claude stroked his (Lorenz’s) phallus. He gasped, his eyes reflexively opened, and Claude stilled, likely out of caution.

“You okay?” Claude asked softly and Lorenz pushed himself up onto his elbows; there was a certain level of  _ disbelief _ over the intimate touch bringing pleasure, although that faded in the bewilderment over the very obvious and undeniable reality that he, Lorenz, was somehow  _ aroused _ . 

“I…?” Lorenz wasn’t sure how to phrase his confusion into coherence.

“Massage makes the blood in your body move faster and more easily while also relaxing you, so while you might not be sexually excited, you can still end up aroused,” Claude said, his palm now resting against Lorenz’s crotch, the stubbornly lingering erection cradled between Claude’s thumb and forefinger. “Perfectly normal and shows that you’re healthy and everything is working like it should.”

“Oh,” Lorenz said weakly, his ears ringing with embarrassment. 

“Am I still allowed to touch?” Claude asked solemnly, his hand and body absolutely still as he watched Lorenz. 

It felt like a  _ weirdly _ pivotal moment. 

Lorenz slowly laid fully back down, closed his eyes again, and said, “You’ve touched everywhere else on me, so yes. Just don’t think I’m going to last, since I’ve only ever thought of my arousal as an inconvenience that needs to be dealt with as quickly as possible.”

The tiny sound of relief and glee that escaped Claude was endearing, and Lorenz shivered at the glide of Claude’s calloused palm against a part of him that even  _ he _ rarely touched, and which no one else ever had. 

Lorenz’s body responded as it was trained to, his orgasm hitting him after only a few strokes; Claude’s laugh of disbelief and chagrin made Lorenz groan in embarrassment, although part of that may have also come from how the sensation had somehow been... _ different _ . It...there wasn’t just grudging relief, but a lingering, tingly  _ giddiness _ and a bit of hypersensitivity.

_ How does he manage to make everything that should be familiar so  _ different? Lorenz distantly wondered.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Claude said, warmth lacing his voice. “I should have believed you when you told me you trained yourself to orgasm quickly.”

Lorenz opened his eyes to glare and Claude, only to have his reprimands die in his throat at the sight of Claude licking the cum off his hand like it was, was,  _ icing _ or something. It was filthy and flattering and Lorenz had never felt so conflicted. He must have made some kind of sound, since it caught Claude’s attention, and the asshole  _ held his eyes _ as his motions slowed and grew more  _ suggestive _ as he cleaned his hand with his tongue. 

Lorenz swallowed hard, his face hot with a potent blush. “You are awful.”

“I wanted to know if you’d taste like tea,” Claude explained with a cheshire grin. “I think I’m tasting the lotion more than anything else, though, which worries me a little bit, but hopefully it won’t kill me.”

“I think the base is goat milk or something like that, so...no?” Lorenz said, his voice weak. 

Claude’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you starting to panic?”

“What? No. No, it’s not panic it’s...overwhelm? I...I can’t think of the last time I felt  _ that _ . I’m too good at simply overriding the need.”

Claude looked a little  _ sad _ , so crawled on the bed to place a kiss to Lorenz’s forehead. “Well, you better get used to orgasming, because you’re going to do it plenty more with me around. I’m aiming for at least twice a day to start now that it’s okay for me to touch you there.”

“ _ Claude _ .”

“What better way to greet and end the day, hm?” Claude said and winked. “Now, let me get out of  _ my _ pants and then we can cuddle under the covers.”

“N-naked?”

“Of course.”

“ _ Claude _ . My heart. I can’t take this.”

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Claude said and easily shucked off his pants and underwear, draping them on the same piece of furniture as Lorenz’s clothes. “I won’t do anything without you fully aware.”

Lorenz huffed in amused indignation and rolled so that he could pull down the blankets and sheets. Claude joined him shortly, and let out a pleased moan when he stretched out under the blankets and on the mattress. “Holy fucking hell, Lorenz, how do you convince yourself to get up and out of bed every morning? This is  _ glorious _ .”

“It is only so because you are in it now,” Lorenz replied and pulled Claude close, a thrill in how Claude was fully naked in bed with him. 

“You’re too cute sometimes,” Claude said and gave Lorenz the lightest of butterfly kisses on his lips. “But also a bit of a pain. I might go back and try to decode some of your earlier poetry, since I bet the cipher won’t be so  _ sophisticated. _ ”

“Good luck,” Lorenz said dryly and kissed Claude’s head. “I like to think my ciphers are generally difficult to break.”

“Asshole.”

“And yet you love me.”

“That I do. And you told your parents that we’re together. You chose me over them.”

“And I will continue to choose you. Every day.”

Claude’s smile was brilliant, and starved off the nightmares that hungrily circled the edges of Lorenz’s eventual slumber.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings that I can think of for this chapter besides Lorenz's parents being his parents.
> 
> As always, a huge thank-you to everyone who reads, comments, kudos, bookmarks, _whatever_. I appreciate you taking the time to consume my work. 
> 
> And finally, FE:3H Still does not belong to me.

Lorenz very thoroughly enjoyed waking up  _ before _ Claude, since it meant he had time to luxuriate in a quiet, comprehensive peace before Claude woke up and immediately made his life exciting by simply  _ existing _ . There was a certain  _ thrill _ in waking up with Claude curled protectively around him in his own bed, embracing him loosely from behind, although that quieter pleasure paled in comparison to the sensation of waking up...needy...and not immediately hating his body for misbehaving. It may have helped that he could feel that Claude was equally aroused, and instead of a gut-wrenching anxiety and baffling fear he felt almost...mischievous. He didn’t know what to do, but he wanted...he wanted to  _ tease _ Claude awake. 

Unfortunately, there was a polite, brisk, familiar knock at his door and the assistant head maid, Desdemona--who was a morning person, unlike Portia--called through the door, “Your Grace, your tea.”

“I’ll be right there,” Lorenz called and tried to disentangle himself from Claude. However, the man simply growled something sleepily in Almyran and clung all the harder, wrapping his arms around Lorenz’s chest, his legs going around Lorenz’s waist.

“Claude, let go,” Lorenz semi-commanded.

“No,” Claude growled.

“You are a  _ child _ sometimes,” Lorenz huffed. He shifted to hold on to Claude and then rolled, Claude still clinging like a limpet to his back as he struggled to sit up. Claude promptly and forcibly leaned back, making Lorenz fall right back down to the mattress with a yelp, although he did hear the air whoosh out of Claude as he (Lorenz) landed on top of him.

Not that it made the asshole let go.

“Claude!”

“I’m not ready to get up so you’re not either. Cuddles now, tea later.”

“I am not going to leave Desdemona standing out there waiting. Tea and cuddles can occur at the same time. You can sit in my lap.”

“No,” Claude said petulantly.

“Oh my goddess,” Lorenz groaned. Claude was being  _ obstinate _ , but Lorenz nevertheless managed to sit up again with Claude doing his best to act like little more than a bag of rocks. His clinging became slightly startled when Lorenz lurched himself to his feet, his hands underneath Claude’s thighs supporting him and his weight. Lorenz teetered slightly, but managed to find his balance.

“Your Grace?” Desdemona asked through the door again, something like curious laughter in her low, calm tone.

“I’m coming,” Lorenz affirmed. He carefully leaned down, Claude now giggling as he nuzzled Lorenz’s neck, and picked up the top blanket, throwing it over him and Claude. Claude was at least generous enough to readjust it so it hung strategically in front of Lorenz and covered him at least partly as well. 

“So strong,” Claude purred and pressed a kiss to just behind Lorenz’s ear.

“You’re a nuisance,” Lorenz scolded as he readjusted Claude on his back and made his way carefully over to the door. He unlocked it and nudged it slightly open so Desdemona knew she could enter before stepping away. Claude was still giggling like a lunatic and pressing quick, light kisses to whatever skin he could reach on Lorenz’s neck, shoulders, and face, although his hands were at least behaving. 

Desdemona opened the door almost cautiously, and her violet eyes widened at the sight Lorenz and Claude made, which caused Lorenz to scowl at the floor as Claude’s giggle-fit somehow got worse. Desdemona was another Gloucester bastard, and had grown up painfully aware of that fact. She had initially come to the Manse to get revenge on Count Gloucester, but Lorenz had ascended by then. He had stopped her assassination attempt on  _ hi _ s life, as she hadn’t been aware the power had transferred hands. She had been baffled when he offered her a position in his household instead of killing her for trying to murder him or turning her in to the Church, but he had been  _ extremely _ short staffed during the early days and she was  _ clearly _ capable, so he’d hired her. She enjoyed needling his father at every opportunity. 

“Mistress Portia told me to inform you that the night passed without incident,” Desdemona said, looking pointedly at her tray and not at them. “Yorick says breakfast should be ready in an hour or so. Do you want someone to come get you?”

“No, we should be fine,” Lorenz replied and jostled Claude pointedly to get him to  _ stop _ when his hands wandered to playfully pinch at one of Lorenz’s nipples, causing the giggles to crescendo to laughter. “Could you arrange to have breakfast delivered to the Solarium? It would be lovely to watch the morning from there.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Desdemona said, her own face growing pink and she seemed to be struggling to not laugh herself. Claude  _ did _ have a rather infectious laugh. “I’ll pick this up later. I...did not expect you to share your tea, so only brought one teacup...”

“Do not worry, we would have likely ended up sharing even if you brought two,” Lorenz commented dryly, which provoked another bout of giggle-Claude, which caused Desdemona to crack and hiccup a few giggles as well.

_ Oh my goddess, _ Lorenz groaned internally.  _ Why do I care for him again? _

“Thank you for bringing my tea, and please pass on the Solarium breakfast request.”

“Yes, I’ll do that right away,” Desdemona said and beat a quick retreat, closing the door quietly and gently behind her as she exited.

“A Solarium, huh?” Claude whispered in Lorenz’s ear before nibbling delicately on his earlobe and making Lorenz’s breath hitch as Claude began to idly rub his lower leg against Lorenz’s groin. “And you get tea even before breakfast?”

“I’m not a morning person and usually work through breakfast, so it is good to be awake as soon as p-p--pah-oss--hng  _ stop _ .”

Lorenz released Claude, who wasn’t holding on tightly anymore, and the man fell to the floor with a heavy thud and a pained grunt upon contact with the floor. There was a beat of stunned silence before Claude started laughing again, which made Lorenz rub his temples and sigh. 

“You…” Lorenz shook his head and walked away from the uncontrollably-giggling blanket-covered Claude and quickly performed his morning ablutions prior to pulling on a pair of sleep pants and a simple linen shirt. Claude watched him with a dejected pout before promptly plopping himself in Lorenz’s lap once Lorenz had settled at the table. 

“You are a menace,” Lorenz stated simply and shifted Claude on his lap so he could comfortably drink his breakfast blend. 

“That smells very bitter,” Claude observed, his face slightly flushed, likely from all his laughter.

“It’s left to steep for perhaps a little too long, but the astringency helps wake me up as well as the caffeine,” Lorenz responded. “So, care to tell me why you decided to do your best imitation of an octopus this morning?”

“I woke up in a supremely comfortable bed with a gorgeous man who I am hopelessly in love with,” Claude said as an explanation and then took the teacup from Lorenz before he could put it down. After a moment’s trepidation, he took a sip and wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, I don’t put milk or sugar in my tea, but this is strong enough to need it.”

“Both of which were provided, since you’re not wrong,” Lorenz said and gestured to the small bowl of sugar cubes and a small carafe of milk. “Why don’t you let me finish this cup black and then you make one for me?”

Claude looked absolutely delighted by the idea, but instead of letting Lorenz finish the tea, he just drained the cup on his own, shuddering slightly afterwards. He put the teacup down and then contemplated the tea set with far more solemnity than he’d shown the rest of the morning, making Lorenz chuckle.

“Hm?” Claude prompted.

“Nothing,” Lorenz said and sat back in the chair, then tugged the blanket down and off Claude, dropping it to the floor and leaving him exposed. Claude’s face darkened slightly as his posture straightened, his skin visibly prickling with goosebumps.

Lorenz traced the morning light that highlighted Claude’s musculature with his fingertips, his touch feather-light, and Claude’s complexion darkened a shade more. “What’s taking you so long to make my tea?” Lorenz pseudo-demanded.

“Well, if  _ someone _ wasn’t petting me and being distractingly attractive, it’d be easier to focus on things like that,” Claude replied primly. He turned his attention to the tea and carefully filled the teacup about ⅔ of the way with tea, then added a dollop of milk and two sugar cubes. It would be slightly sweeter than Lorenz usually took it, but Claude was sweet, so perhaps it made sense that his tea would be so as well.

“For you, Your Grace,” Claude said and held the slightly-steaming cup to Lorenz’s lips, a coy smile on his own face. 

Lorenz was impressed with how  _ careful _ Claude was, giving him the tea in small enough sips that he never burnt his tongue, and no tea spilled. However, instead of letting Lorenz finish the cup normally, Claude took the dregs of the cup into his mouth, then passed it on to Lorenz in a leisurely, deep kiss. 

“Well?” Claude asked once the kiss broke. “Enjoy the tea, Your Grace?”

“I did, yes,” Lorenz said, his voice low and rough. 

“I can see why you always looked so disappointed with the Monestary’s teapots, though,” Claude said. “The ones here are  _ much _ larger, as are the cups.”

Lorenz hummed. “You should get changed into clothes.”

“Probably,” Claude agreed. “You going to go to breakfast in that outfit?”

“No, it was meant to keep you from being obscene and opportunistic,” Lorenz said, looking at his own clothing. “Now, go and make yourself presentable.”

“But I  _ like _ this arrangement.”

“I do, too, but I also want to  _ leave _ as soon as possible, which means getting the day started.”

Claude looked slightly dejected. “I suppose I’ll have to work in a quickie with you sometime, then, since I was serious about getting you to orgasm  _ at least _ twice each day.”

“ _ Claude _ ,” Lorenz groaned. “Get up and get changed. Now.”

Claude predictably ignored the command and instead caught Lorenz in another kiss that left him dazed when Claude finally pulled away. Lorenz just  _ watched _ the other man for a minute, both because it was pleasurable and because he needed to gather himself, then stood and walked to his armoire. He picked out a pair of white slacks, a lilac-colored button-down shirt, and a periwinkle-blue waistcoat with pearl buttons. He picked the cufflinks out of the previous day’s shirt and slid them into the holes in his new shirt and secured them, regarding them with a small smile.

“It really makes me happy that you’re always wearing those,” Claude observed and gave Lorenz a kiss on the cheek. Lorenz was mildly surprised to see Claude dressed in more traditionally Almyran clothes. “Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Lorenz said. “You look good in your country’s clothing.”

“You sure you don’t mean to say ‘You look better wearing nothing at all’?” Claude offered with a wink and took Lorenz’s hand. “Come on, show me this Solarium. I’m starving and you didn’t let me make an appetizer of you this morning.”

Lorenz felt his face flush and he shook his head in mild disbelief, unable to fully suppress a smile. “Very well. This way.”

The Solarium was at the highest point on the Manse property, and gave a rather breathtaking view of the entire place. It required a brief journey outside, but Gloucester territory was usually warmer than Garreg Mach, due to being in a valley instead of in the mountains. The Manse was already fully awake, the household bustling about and performing their morning chores. They passed the Manse guard performing their drills and received an absent, hurried salute as they passed; Lorenz waved them to ease. Their conjoined hands received curious looks, but no audible commentary. 

“Your people are surprisingly circumspect,” Claude observed as they followed the path up to the Solarium. 

“I may have already told you, but most are survivors of the war in one way or another,” Lorenzs said. “Either that or related to me  _ somehow _ . Both of those mean that they keep their opinions to themselves or tell Portia, who eventually brings me all the staff complaints and concerns. Ah, I should ask for volunteers.”

“Volunteers?”

“I will need my own household until the palace employees get used to my presence. I am  _ very _ Fodlanese, and if they treated you with prejudice and you look Almyran, I can only imagine how many wards against evil will be drawn behind my back.”

Claude sighed, the sound sad. “Point.”

Lorenz leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Claude’s temple. “Do not worry, I’m used to people hating me.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Claude grumbled. “But...why?”

“Well, it was second-hand hate,” Lorenz said as he pushed open the doors to the solarium. “My father was broadly disliked, and that dislike was often transferred to me by association; I was also the easier target.”

“Lorenz,” Claude started, but was distracted by the interior. The ceiling was entirely made not of regular glass, but colored glass, and depicted various scenes out of the Teachings of Seiros. The furniture was all wicker, but also had plentiful cushions that made it much more comfortable. A large fountain dominated the center of the room, and the small tables that were usually scattered thought the room were pushed together to form one, longer table to accommodate the larger group for breakfast. A rotund, black cat with a white star on its neck and a rose-red collar lounged on the edge of the fountain and observed the fast, deft motions of the servants with impassive green eyes. Greenery was also sprinkled strategically throughout the room, and there was a mechanism for lowering curtains for when the sun became too much.

“I can see why you want to take breakfast here,” Claude said and tugged Lorenz over towards where the servants were finishing preparations to look out the windows closest to where they’d be having breakfast. “It’s almost like you can see everything on your property from here.”

“Gloucester territory is...well, I suppose bodies make good fertilizer,” Lorenz said wryly. “Most of the apples that you ate at Garreg Mach came either from the greenhouse itself or from our orchards. Many fruits and vegetables found throughout Fodlan come from Gloucester lands, although obviously not all. My territory is also home to plenty of vineyards, so we have a fairly extensive wine cellar. Perhaps I should bring a few bottles for your parents?”

“Dad likes wine,” Claude agreed, leaning into Lorenz’s body as they watched the sun kiss the fields and orchards surrounding the Manse. “So he might appreciate some.”

“I’ll let you go through our cellar and choose which ones to bring, then,” Lorenz replied and pressed a quick kiss to Claude’s head. “We also positioned ourselves at a crossroads, so merchants  _ must _ travel through Gloucester territory in order to get anywhere in the Alliance. Now that I keep the roads safe and clear, my territory has only grown more prosperous.”

“Will you miss it?” Claude asked.

“Probably,” Lorenz admitted. “It is quite far from here to Almyra. We really should discuss setting up a courier service. I spoke with Manuela about it briefly--do you think you could convince Hilda to allow Fodlan’s Locket to be used as a relay point between Almyra and Fodlan?”

“Can’t see why she wouldn’t agree,” Claude said and rolled his shoulders. “Maybe it’ll help encourage people to travel between the two countries if we have an easy way to exchange letters and whatnot? I think we’ll have to prove the communication route is reliable though before merchants and the like will trust that the border is open…”

“Still so much to do to manifest the world you envision,” Lorenz commented.

“But it’s getting closer every day,” Claude responded with an easy smile. “Hey Lorenz?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I am lucky to be loved by you,” Lorenz replied and picked up Claude’s hand to press a quick kiss to it; he was pretty sure he heard a wistful sigh from one of his staff. He supposed it was a rather stereotypically romantic response.

“Ah, look--we’ll have company soon,” Claude said, gesturing out the window to the quintet of Hilda, Marianne, Leonie, Ignatz, and Desdemona. “I meant to ask, is Desdemona a sister?”

“Half-sister,” Lorenz semi-corrected. “She tried to kill me thinking I was my father, you know.”

“...and you brought her on as staff?” Claude asked, incredulous.

“She was far from the first person to try, and nothing is more annoying than having your ‘failures’ rubbed in your face on a daily basis, so…”

Claude snorted.

Ignatz trotted a little ahead of the group of women and held open the solarium door, allowing them easy access. Lorenz and Claude walked to the conjoined table and Lorenz gave them all a smile. “Good morning. Did you all sleep well?”

“I don’t understand why you nobles insist on such needlessly  _ large _ beds,” Leonie said, and Ignatz shook his head in amusement. 

“You liked being able to spread out so much,” Igantz said. “I finally didn’t feel like I was going to get pushed off by accident.”

Marianne chuckled as Hilda gave Claude and--to his personal surprise--Lorenz a quick hug. 

“We slept fine,” Hilda said and allowed Lorenz to pull out a chair for her and her fiancee. “I never sleep with the window open because our home is more a fortress than anything else, so it was nice having floor-to-ceiling windows and open them to allow air from the garden to blow through.”

“I’m glad you enjoy the room,” Lorenz said and pushed Hilda, then Marianne, in. “Did you enjoy dinner with my staff last night?”

“Rosalind is a treasure,” Hilda laughed. “I haven’t eaten so much in...well, a long time!”

“She knows how to season properly,” Leonie agreed. “And she used  _ everything _ ! There was no waste at all. I expected to have to yell at you about throwing away so much still good food and whatnot, but she’s  _ skilled _ .”

“They also were honest about their only complaint about you being that you work too hard,” Ignatz added as he and Leonie joined them at the table. “And that they were most impressed in how you actually  _ listened _ to them.”

Lorenz smiled wryly. “I’m glad that they didn’t have much to complain about, although I doubt they would fully disclose to my friends the sum of their complaints. I hope I didn’t dominate conversation even without being there!”

“Oh, no, they were all fascinated by Claude,” Marianne said, and Lorenz looked to Claude, who gave him a sheepish shrug. 

“You did introduce me as the Almyran King, and I get the feeling that a lot of them never thought they’d ever meet any foreigner ever in their lives.”

“Were they rude about you being Almyran?”

“A little,” Claude admitted. “But it didn’t come from a place of malice, but ignorance. Opening Fodlan’s Throat was only the first step to combatting the ignorance, so I didn’t mind answering their questions.”

Lorenz looked to Desdemona, whose face was as pink as Hilda’s hair. She cleared her throat in discomfort and said, “I admit that some were less...circumspect than they should have been. Portia and I have already spoken with them about it.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz responded.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Hey, Lorenz,” Claude said, sounding both dangerously thoughtful and distracted.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me?”

Lorenz saw no reason  _ not _ to, so obliged, only for there to be a  _ resounding _ thud as the solarium itself seemed to vibrate from impact. Desdemona started to cackle after a moment, followed shortly by Leonie. Claude looked  _ exceedingly _ pleased with himself when he let Lorenz pull away and Lorenz looked where everyone else was--to find his father slightly bent over in pain, and the small amount of blood on the ground and how he was holding his nose said he must have semi- _ ran _ face-first into the solarium’s glass door.

“You know, I can’t even be mad at you,” Lorenz sighed affectionately. “After all, it’s not like I can ask you to not make an enemy of him since he hates you anyway.”

Claude snickered.

“Desdemona?”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Could you tell my father I’ll speak with him once I’m finished breakfast? I’m sure he needs time to  _ compose _ himself,” Lorenz said. “Do ask him if he needs Juliet to tend to his injury. If he agrees, please tell Juliet that the correct remedy is not ‘walk it off, pussy.’ I  _ do _ pay her to do more than read medical textbooks, and he is a patient, even if an unwanted one.”

“Certainly,” Desdemona chirped. Her smile had a bit of an edge to it as she strode out of the solarium, deliberately opening the door in such a way that she hit the still-dazed former-Count, making him stagger even farther from the Solarium.

“Oh,  _ I’m sorry, _ ” Desdemona said in the most insincere, saccharine voice Lorenz had ever heard before she was too muffled by the door closing to make out any more. 

“Does  _ anyone _ here like your father?” Leonie asked, although her tone said she already knew the answer was  _ no _ .

“My mother does...somewhat,” Lorenz said as he watched his father shake off Desdemona’s false concern and stalk away. “Our  _ relationship _ is too fraught for me to claim to  _ like _ my father, particularly given the most recent development in my life.”

Claude chuckled maliciously.

“So, I was thinking that maybe I can start your portrait today after we finish breakfast?” Ignatz offered as Lorenz reflexively served everyone tea. “I took a long wander around your Manse yesterday and saw all the other portraits, so know what is done traditionally for your family.”

“All things considered, I’d rather have a painting in  _ your _ style than in one that mimics my forefathers,” Lorenz said mildly. “I’m trying my best to distinguish myself from them, so having a unique painting would be...welcome.”

Ignatz looked  _ relieved _ . “That’s...really good to hear. I don’t think I could have replicated the same kind of techniques and it all looks so stiff and dark…”

“Is there a particular background or lighting you would like best?”

“Actually, this place is beautiful,” Ignatz said, looking around. “I would just have to make a quick stop back to the room you’re letting us use to pick up my supplies.”

“It screams  _ nobility _ ,” Leonie muttered under her breath, which made Lorenz chuckle. “This much colored glass means that it was all  _ very _ expensive.”

“If Ignatz is to start my portrait, it means we likely won’t get any work done until lunch,” Lorenz said, looking to Marianne and Hilda. “Are you okay with that?”

“We actually have some leftover questions from last night,” Hilda said, and Marianne nodded. “And I’m sure Cladue wouldn’t mind being an errand boy for us, right? You want to make sure the Alliance flourishes under me and Marianne, don’t you? So  _ of course _ you’ll help all you can while you can.”

Claude looked like he was struggling not to smirk and simply nodded. “I remember how to get to Lorenz’s study, if you need anything I’ll get it from there.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Hilda said with a smile and reached over to gently pat Claude’s cheek. “So reliable.”

Claude snorted. 

“So, if it isn’t  _ too _ much prying, could you tell me who among your servants is family?” Leonie asked before she took a large bite of her breakfast; she blinked in surprise, then voiced a muffled, pleased moan. 

“Rosalind’s sous chef takes care of breakfast because Rosalind is a night owl,” Lorenz said. “Yorick’s home village wasn’t terribly far from your own. I imagine this breakfast is...nostalgic?”

“It’s  _ amazing _ ,” Leonie said and set about her breakfast with slightly more care, savoring each bite. 

“As for who is family,” Lorenz said. “I’m fairly certain that Portia and Ceila--my weaponsmistress, whom you may or may not have met--are full-sisters. They have the Gloucester coloration. There’s another woman, Ophelia, who looks  _ startlingly _ like my mother, but with my nose. I’m fairly certain she’s another sister, but she keeps to herself for the most part--she’s my head gardener, and only comes to me when she’s having a pest problem. I’m...not entirely sure of her story, but I figure she’ll tell me it when she’s ready. As for Gloucester bastards, there’s Rosalind, Juliet, Desdemona, Cressida, Bianca, Audry and Eleanor. Those are the ones that I  _ know _ of, at least. There may be more. All of them are Crest-carriers, none of them have the Crest themselves. Once my parents are dead, I plan to offer them a place in House Gloucester if they want it.”

“Why are you waiting?” Marianne asked.

“Because while I am the Count and technical Head of House, either my father or mother could dispute the claim and bog everything down in legal proceedings and that is not worth the trouble or time and would likely only embarrass everyone involved.”

Marianne hummed and sipped her tea thoughtfully.

“The, ah, stained glass,” Ignatz said. “What is it depicting?”

Lorenz was happy to explain which stories from the Teaching of Seiros were depicted on the ceiling and walls, then demonstrate how the inside of the curtains could also double as tapestries that depicted historic scenes. Marianne added depth and extra information to the stories Lorenz didn't know well, which he appreciated.

“Fascinating, how different artists and mediums interpret the same stories,” Ignatz observed. 

“What’s the big metal pole on top for?” Leonie asked. “It seems...really out of place.”

“This is the highest point in the valley,” Lorenz said. “So whenever we get storms, this building is where the lightning will inevitably strike. That pole protects this building. It’s an...experience...being in here during a thunderstorm.”

“I bet!” Hilda said. “It must be  _ terrifying _ .”

“It feels like the world is ending,” Lorenz said, bittersweet memories niggling at the edges of his mind. “But that is neither here nor there. Portia has been hovering and we’re finished, so why don’t you get your supplies, Ignatz? I’ll stay here.”

“You’re not going to check on what your father wanted?” Marianne asked.

Lorenz shook his head. “If it is important, he will come to me again. If it is not, I can ask him during lunch or dinner. He might also be in more of a foul mood  _ now _ , if only because he dislikes the Manse doctor, who dislikes him just as much, and they likely had to spend time together.”

“...why?”

“Juliet is Lysithea-levels of intelligent and takes great pleasure in talking circles around him,” Lorenz said. “My father dislikes being made to feel inept, so…”

“I see,” Marianne murmured. 

“I’ll help Ignatz get his supplies and we’ll tell Portia she can come in,” Leonie said and stood. “This breakfast was  _ amazing _ . The cook was...Yorick, you said? I’m gonna have to find and talk to him.”

“He rarely leaves the kitchen or its attached garden,” Lorenz said. 

Leonie gestured that she heard him as she and Ignatz stood. Unheard words were exchanged between Leonie and Portia, who came in once the door was clear.

“You enjoyed your breakfast?” Portia confirmed, and Lorenz nodded. 

“Pass my compliments to Yorick,” Lorenz said as Portia began to collect the plates and put them on the cart she had wheeled in. “Ah, by the way. I will be staying here into the lunch hour, so if anything comes up or I am required, I’ll be here.”

“Understood, Your Grace,” Portia said. “I sent out the letters you wrote with an express messenger yesterday evening, by the way. Figured it would be best to get them out of the Manse and away from potential tampering.”

“You think of everything,” Lorenz said with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Your Grace,” Portia replied with a matching smile. 

“So, while we’re waiting for Ignatz and Leonie to return--what questions remain from last night?” Lorenz said and leaned back in his chair, looking to Hilda and Marianne.

Lorenz was less than surprised when, once the table was clear and Portia had left, Claude climbed into his lap and settled himself comfortably there, his legs draped over one of the arms of the chair, his back half supported by the other chair arm, half by Lorenz. Marianne blushed faintly as Hilda gave Claude a look that communicated “ _ Really _ ?” and continued the conversation without a hitch. Lorenz just ended up idly stroking Claude’s thigh as he outlined the most recent power struggles within Alliance holdings. Claude seemed content to rest against Lorenz and simply listen, one arm across his own stomach, the other around Lorenz’s waist, face turned into his (Lorenz’s) neck. 

Ignatz and Leonie eventually returned with his art supplies in hand and trailing a small, curious contingent of Lorenz’s staff. Ignatz’s face flushed slightly when he saw Lorenz and Claude’s positions, and he asked, “It will definitely be unusual, but will you be using Claude as a prop for your portrait?”

Claude snickered into Lorenz’s neck. “If we’re going to objectify me into a prop, maybe I should undress?” he whispered softly enough that only Lorenz could hear. 

“No,” Lorenz said firmly. “Get up.”

Claude sighed dramatically. “Fine. But first…”

Claude shifted enough to loop his arms around Lorenz’s neck and pull him into a kiss that prompted some of the ballsier members of Lorenz’s staff to wolf-whistle. 

“I’ll go grab some of your archived poetry, bring it here, and start trying to break the cipher while you sit for your portrait,” Claude said once he released Lorenz. He gave Lorenz a final, quick kiss on the cheek before standing from his seat on Lorenz’s lap and meandering out of the solarium. 

Lorenz took a deep breath and steadied his racing heart, absolutely certain that his face was bright red.

“That man,” he grumbled under his breath. He looked to Ignatz. “Is there some place that you think would make the best background for the portrait?”

“I think looking out on the landscape of the valley would make a beautiful one, so do you think you could move your chair against that window?”

“It also lets in late-afternoon light, so you won’t be blinded for a while,” Lorenz agreed and stood, taking the chair he had been sitting in and placing it against the window/wall. “Do you need me to be dressed more formally than this?”

“No, the colors work fine, and I try for a more natural feel in my art anyway,” Ignatz said as he set up his easel. “Just sit like you would naturally, don’t try for anything ‘formal.’”

“If you say so,” Lorenz said and took a seat before running his fingers through his hair, hoping that it was behaving. He doubted that Ignatz would create a  _ bad _ portrait of him, but he still worried about his appearance. “Douglas, Marshall? Could you bring a table and two chairs slightly closer to here? I’d like to continue my conference with the Margravine Edmund and Lady Goneril without yelling across the solarium.”

“Got it! I mean, yes, Your Grace,” Douglas said and together he and Marshall brought one of the tables and two of the empty chairs closer to where Lorenz was sitting. 

Lorenz had sat for one other painting before--when his father had given up trying to have sons and officially announced Lorenz as heir. It had been boring as all get-out and he, being young, had fussed, which had earned him rather steep punishment. He doubted the experience with Ignatz would be the same, and he, predictably, wasn’t. Every now and then Ignatz had to ask him to turn to face him, but for the most part Lorenz was free to focus first on Alliance business with Marianne and Hilda, and then avoiding giving Claude hints to his cipher. He recognized the books as archives of his poetry from when he was around 15. The keyword for the first poem was the color of the book, and then subsequent poetry used keywords from the previous poem, so Claude was in for a  _ slog _ , but it kept him occupied between runs to Lorenz’s study to pick up one thing or another. 

The morning passed without incident, and Lorenz was  _ just _ about to hold out hope that they could get through without issue when he saw his mother walking with Portia as she wheeled their lunch to the Solarium. Portia was not  _ fond _ of his father, but actively hated his mother-- _ their _ mother--because she just  _ gave away _ her daughters, all because they were female and had no Crest and, thus, no ‘worth.’

_ Here we go, _ Lorenz said and stood, causing Ignatz to look around his easel in confusion.

“Lorenz?”

“My mother apparently needs a word with me,” Lorenz said and walked over towards the door. There was a painful scraping sound on the floor, and Lorenz quickly felt fingers intertwine with his own. He looked over to see Claude’s expression set to  _ stubborn _ . 

“You dealt with her on your own last night, I’m not letting you suffer through your parents alone again,” Claude said as way of explanation. Lorenz sighed softly, then pressed a quick kiss to the back of Claude’s hand, earning himself a smile. Using his free hand, he opened the door for Portia, who strode through with a stiff gait that spoke of endless displeasure. Lorenz’s mother, however, waited on the other side of the door, her face twisted in delicate disdain as her eyes flicked over Claude before focusing on Lorenz as he stepped through, the door closing behind Claude.

“Is there something I can help you with, mother?” Lorenz asked mildly. 

Her eyes flicked again to Claude, who had released Lorenz’s hand so that he could snuggle up closer, Claude’s arm around Lorenz’s waist and pressing against his (Lorenz’s) side so the former Countess could quite literally not look at Lorenz without looking at him (Claude). 

_ How wonderfully annoying, _ Lorenz thought, not bothering to stop his smile and he pressed a quick kiss to Claude’s head. 

His mother cleared her throat in disapproval, then said, “You were clearly not lying about  _ some _ things last night.”

“I lied about nothing,” Lorenz said.

“Lorenz, he’s a  _ man _ .”

“I am very well aware of that fact.”

“Men can’t get pregnant.”

“Also true,” Lorenz agreed. 

“You need children to carry on the Gloucester line.”

“I have full-sisters and  _ many _ half-sisters,” Lorenz pointed out. “One of them may have a child with a Crest of Gloucester and I can adopt them to carry on the line.”

“You have  _ no _ sisters.”

“You certainly tried,” Claude murmured, not bothering to hide the dry note in his voice. 

“Lorenz, don’t do this to your mother,” she said, her eyes abruptly watery with crocodile tears. “I want grandchildren that are  _ yours _ , not some  _ bastard’s. _ We can’t hand control of such a prestigious, old, powerful House to, to, to  _ commoners _ !”

“My full-sisters are only commoners because you deemed them unworthy of nobility merely because they didn’t carry a Crest,” Lorenz said. “They are as blue-blooded as I am, just raised under different circumstances.”

“And it is those  _ different circumstances _ that make them incapable of ruling,” she said. “Please, just transfer power back to your father, take some time to visit the Houses of young noblewomen, maybe attend a few soirees and you’ll find yourself a  _ wife _ worthy of the Gloucester line. You’ve put far too much effort into the nation and not enough into your own life and House. I’ve sent out a few introductions on your behalf, maybe--”

“I have chosen Khalid,” Lorenz cut in, his grip tightening slightly on Claude’s waist. “I will not change my mind.”

“Well, you have chosen  _ wrong _ ,” his mother insisted, paying Claude mind long enough to glare daggers at him for a heartbeat. “A relationship with a man is unnatural and aberrant; a relationship with a foreigner and a  _ von Riegan _ has all your ancestors spinning in their graves.”

“May they become hopelessly entangled in their burial shrouds,” Lorenz said. 

“Lorenz!” his mother scolded, her attention shifting fully back to Lorenz. “You _will_ tend to your responsibilities, or I will find a way to prove you incompetent to rule and take power back for your father so the Gloucester will have a _true_ _man_ leading it again.”

“Good luck,” Lorenz said as his stomach twisted. “The Sovereign will never hand it back to my father no matter what  _ evidence _ you may attempt to use. I have already had more than one Kingdom noble tell me that they would refuse to parlay with my father because he is not, in his words,  _ a just man, _ and if he has no one to interact with or who is willing to listen to him, how much power does he actually have?”

“ _ Justice _ has nothing to do with ruling capably,” his mother said dismissively. “And this  _ noble _ you speak of is likely one of the commoners that were given power after the war to fill the voids. He will learn how to properly deal with his betters.”

Lorenz shook his head slowly. “Is my marriage prospects the only concern you wish to discuss? Because if it is, I have lunch waiting and don’t want Rosalind’s handiwork to get cold.”

“The conversation isn’t over!”

“Yes, it is,” Claude said for Lorenz. “Come on, love. All I hear is meaningless noise. I can  _ smell _ the food from out here, and if it tastes even half as good as it smells...”

Claude’s stomach growled as if on cue; Lorenz chuckled before leaning down to press a quick, chaste kiss to Claude’s lips. “And we mustn’t disrupt your body’s schedule.”

“Precisely,” Claude chirped and reached back to open the door, guiding Lorenz inside. Lorenz was pretty sure she caught Claude throw a sharp glare at his mother over his shoulder, but decided to ignore the behavior.

It was only once Lorenz was sitting down--Claude once again choosing to lounge in his lap instead of sitting in his own chair--that he dragged Claude to him and muffled a strangled sound of panic and frustration with Claude’s clothes and body. 

“Love?” Claude asked, concern lacing his voice as his hands stroked Lorenz’s head and shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Lorenz eventually said when he pulled away to breathe. “That was not her at her worst. She and my father play off each other exceedingly well and I already feel awful for you having to endure even that much.”

“Nonsense. You stood up for yourself, for me, and for your sisters. You did exceptionally.”

“You’re being generous.”

“I’m being honest,” Claude said. “Do you think you can eat anything, or just tea for you right now?”

“I don’t think I could keep anything down at the moment, but don’t let that stop you from eating.”

“Well, here’s tea for you,” Claude said and offered the cup and saucer to Lorenz. “Your food is available for once your stomach has settled.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said and took the tea from Claude, who pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Claude turned his attention to Ignatz and asked, “How’s the painting coming?”

“Quite well!” Ignatz said. “I have all the major elements down.”

“How many more sittings do you think you’ll need?” Lorenz asked after taking a sip of the tea. 

“Three or four?” Ignatz offered. “If you sit for another session this afternoon and then two tomorrow, I should be finished. You’re a very good subject--you don’t move all that much and don’t interrupt me when I’m working.”

“Can I see it?” Claude asked after finishing a bite of the lunch provided. “Just want to make sure you’re making Lorenz attractive enough,” he finished, giving Lorenz a wink.

Lorenz felt his face heat. “Claude, I’m sure Ignatz is doing wonderfully. It is rather difficult to capture perfection, you know.”

_ That _ made Claude laugh and lightly pat Lorenz’s cheek. “Then I have to check to make sure he’s at least partly true-to-life.”

“No, leave the artist alone while he is working,” Lorenz said firmly. “I trust him to do a good job.”

“I don’t mind  _ showing _ Claude,” Ignatz said. “He just has to be aware that it is in its beginning stages.”

"I was always interested in your artistic process, but you used to be shy about it," Claude said. "So,thank you for being willing to show me now."

Ignatz's face colored slightly in one flavor of embarrassment or another as he replied, "Well, now that it is my livelihood and not something to be ashamed of, I'm a little more open about it all."

Gradually, Lorenz stomach settled enough for lunch, which Claude insisted on  _ helping _ him with; Lorenz found the whole experience flustering while also leaving his insides feeling like mush. Unfortunately, as they were finishing lunch, Arthur arrived along with a rather cussed-looking Portia. 

“Your father would like me to inform you that neither he nor your mother are feeling well, and thus will not take dinner with you tonight,” Arthur said in his slow, sleepy voice.

Lorenz sighed softly, relief trickling through him. “How unfortunate. May they recover.”

“Your mother has also indicated that she would like to throw a soiree in King Khalid’s honor,” Arthur continued. “As it is rare that House Gloucester plays host to foreign royalty.”

“Has Rosalind already been informed of this?” Lorenz asked quickly. Rosalind had a love for parties that rivaled Claude’s, but if he could get to her before she learned of his mother’s plans--

“She has, yes,” Arthur intoned. “And would like to speak with His Royal Highness so she can approximate Almyran dishes or cook him Fodlanese cuisine that he favors.”

Lorenz was  _ pleased _ by the suspicious look shared between his guests as Claude said, “Well, I don’t think House Gloucester carries many of the necessary spices for Almyran food, but do let Rosalind know that the meal that would please me the most would be an entire menu of dishes the former Count and Countess Gloucester  _ hate _ .”

Arthur’s eyebrows went up ever so slightly, a tiny gleam entering his usually dead-looking eyes as Portia  _ snerked _ while she cleaned up the plates. “I see. I will let her know your request.”

“Thank you,” Claude almost  _ chirped _ . 

“You might not like what my parents  _ dis _ like, though,” Lorenz pointed out.

“True, but I think it’s more that I gave Rosalind permission to be a bitch,” Claude said with a languid grin. “I'm sure she'll end up making all kinds of special dishes that you love but that your parents have bad-mouthed, or that can be prepared in separate batches so we will get the tasty ones and they get the crappy ones.”

“...please do not encourage the bad behavior of my staff.”

Hilda snickered. 

“Since I’m not beholden to a formal family dinner, would you like to eat with the staff again? Usually if my parents decline dinner with me for one reason or another, I, ah…”

“Skip it,” Portia drawled.

“Lorenz,” Claude chided.

“We can set up a formal dinner for you all,” Portia said. “Or you can eat with us again. It’s up to you. I know His Grace feels a little  _ uncomfortable _ eating with the staff.”

“Oh?” Leonie asked, a tiny bit of judgement entering her tone.

“It isn’t about--okay, yes, it  _ is _ about eating with commoners,” Lorenz sighed. “I’m unable to relax and enjoy Roslaind’s hard work because I grew up with formal dinners drilled into me, so the relaxed etiquette and whatnot gives me agita and I end up saying stupid things that I regret later.”

“We could always have a private dinner,” Claude suggested, all innocence.

“If we have a private dinner, you will attempt to make  _ me _ the main course,” Lorenz drawled and lightly tapped Claude’s nose. “No.”

“I promise to behave,” Claude  _ obviously _ lied, based upon how his face had darkened slightly and the low heat in his voice. 

“You will have to pardon me not quite believing you,” Lorenz said and gestured to how Claude was using him as a chair rather than sitting in his own. 

“You’re comfortable,” Claude protested with an oddly endearing pout. 

Leonie and Portia both choked on snickers.

“We’ll have dinner with you,” Hilda said and gestured between herself and Marianne. “If it really is going to be  _ that _ much of a problem, I’ll survive one formal-style dinner. I admit to not really knowing what that  _ means _ , though.”

“Fancy silverware,” Portia drawled as she wheeled the plates away. 

“It might be good for you to gain some practice, then, since being the leaders of Alliance territory means that you’ll probably be forced to endure some formal dinners,” Lorenz offered.

“I suppose it would be good to get acquainted with the rules of etiquette,” Marianne said. 

“I will be glad to help,” Lorenz said, straightening slightly in his seat. “That means you have to actually sit in your own chair, Claude.”

Puppy-dog eyes on Claude were  _ still _ unnerving. 

“No.”

“Oh, come  _ on _ .”

“ _ Formal. _ ”

“But, Lorenz--”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You’re going to have to start acting like a king and less like a, a--” he sighed. “Part of you is very  _ cat- _ like, but at the same time cats have  _ dignity _ , so perhaps you’re a...very large puppy?”

Hilda started laughing, which made Marianne join in shortly afterwards, and Claude himself snickered as well. 

“I have to be kingly when in Almyra, and I am well aware of how to behave responsibly, so I blame my behavior fully on the fact that you allow it and seem to enjoy it,” Claude semi-teased and tugged on a lock of Lorenz’s hair. “Maybe if you didn’t  _ let _ me climb you like a tree, I wouldn’t be inclined to do it.”

Lorenz huffed and shook his head in amused disbelief. “Claude.”

“I assume you mean in a non-sexual sense, because I doubt you’d manage to replace the stick up his ass that quickly,” Leonie drawled. Ignatz made a strangled sound of second-hand embarrassment; Lorenz’s eyes narrowed as Leonie gave him a shit-eating, unapologetic grin.

“No, I respect Lorenz’s history and boundaries,” Claude said primly, crossing his arms over his chest. Lorenz distantly appreciated the baleful glare that Claude treated Leonie to that actually made her expression slip into uncertainty.

“Will you be doing another sitting for the portrait now or does the paint or whatnot need time to dry?” Lorenz asked Ignatz, barely not squirming in embarrassment.

“Oh,  _ right _ , I wanted to see it,” Claude said and carefully removed himself from Lorenz’s lap.

“We can do another session, if you’re up for it,” Ignatz replied as he stood as well and walked over to his easel, Claude a step behind him. Lorenz took his seat near the window again and that prompted Marianne to follow him over and focus; Hilda’s ability to care was clearly tapped out, so she released Marianne’s hair from its braids and started to redo it all as Lorenz and Marianne discussed the finer points of Alliance intrigue that Lorenz had been wrangling for the past few years.

He was momentarily distracted when Ignatz laughed, and his eyes slid to where Claude was whispering commentary; Ignatz’s face was bright red. 

“Stop teasing the artist and let him work,” Lorenz called out.

“I will if you tell me the key for your cipher,” Claude responded with a cheeky grin. 

“I’ll give you a hint,” Lorenz said dryly. “Since it’s taken you longer than I anticipated. The keyword to the first poem is a color, and the keyword is different for each poem.”

“A  _ color _ ?” Claude repeated, and immediately left Ignatz’s side to return to the table that had Claude’s attempts at transcribing the poetry in the book. He immediately set back to rather concentrated work. 

_ What were my poems like when I was fifteen? _ Lorenz thought, a trill of unease slowly working down his spine. His poetry was a window into his soul and mind, what had been on his mind when he was that age?  _ I doubt any of them are good _ . _ Damnit. _

The hint had clearly been enough, since Claude was quiet and concentrated as Marianne and Lorenz worked, the soft scratch of Ignatz working on the portrait punctuating some of the silences. Lorenz dreaded finding out which poems 15-year-old-Lorenz had thought worth keeping. 

Later in the afternoon, Portia knocked politely on the Solarium’s door before sticking her head in and saying, “Might I suggest moving into the main Manse before you lose all light?”

“That would probably be good,” Lorenz said and stood, stretching, his neck and shoulders cracking. “Ignatz? Marianne?” Leonie had left sometime during the day, Hilda going with her to work off some of her boredom; Claude had also vanished at some point during the afternoon, which was mildly worrying.

“Yes, let’s,” Ignatz said. “I’ve worked on your portrait enough for today. Will it be safe here?”

“I...I would take it with you,” Lorenz said reluctantly. “I apologize.”

“No, it’s better to know,” Ignatz said and carefully started to break down his set-up. 

“We’ll get everything to your and Leonie’s room,” Portia commented. 

“I’m going to stop by my room to freshen up for dinner and start organizing the information I owe you for tomorrow. Dinner should be in...two hours?”

“Two to three hours,” Portia said. “We’ll send someone to get you.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said, then turned to Marianne and Ignatz, “I will see you at dinner?”

“I’m invited, too?” Ignatz said, clearly surprised.

“Of course,” Lorenz said. “It would be rude of me not to invite another guest of honor. You  _ are _ doing me the favor of painting my portrait.”

Ignatz flushed in pleased embarrassment and said, “Then I’ll be sure to be there! I don’t think I’ve ever attended a  _ formal  _ dinner before.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain anything you may have questions about,” Lorenz said with an easy smile. He was  _ good _ with etiquette--he had certainly read enough about every single aspect to know it backwards and forwards. “Until then.”

The Manse seemed somehow...more  _ alive _ than it usually was as he strode through the halls. 

_ Perhaps I should invite people to visit more often, _ Lorenz thought as he made his way to his room.

As he entered, his writing desk caught his eye, and he grimaced.

_ Well, might as well get this over with, _ he thought and sat down. He lit the candles in his suite with a fire spell, opened the drawer that held the envelope Portia had given him the night before, then sat down and re-opened the already-opened envelope. He carefully took out the contents and laid them out on the desk: there were only two things, a letter that had been carefully pieced and glued back together after being torn into pieces and a starling feather. 

The feather told him who the letter was from regardless of the fact that the missive was unsigned. It was a short message, containing no more information than absolutely necessary. There was still enough within the short missive to tear away the final, most deeply cherished lies Lorenz told himself to expose the truth he had alway known deep in his soul but never wanted to acknowledge. 

His ears were ringing, the agonized wails of the child Lorenz had once been echoing through the cavernous halls of his sepulchral soul. He felt oddly disembodied, his fingers, toes, and lips tingling as if asleep, detached. He read the same three lines over and over, the curves of the letters forming a noose that tightened around long-cherished and nurtured hope, strangling it even as the wounded child in him asserted over and over that his eyes were lying, that what he was reading wasn’t true. His parents _couldn’t_ have tried to contract an assassin to kill him. They loved him, they _had_ to, he was their son. He had done _everything_ for them, had killed for them, had bled for them, had broken himself over and over on the rack of their expectations and desires for him. He had lived for each tiny smile, for each flicker of warmth when he performed as they wanted. They loved him! Didn’t they? They had to! _They_ _had to._ Because if they didn’t...what had all that suffering been for? What was the purpose of all that pain, if not to secure their love?

“Lorenz? Lorenz, why are you crying? What happened?” Claude’s voice asked from what seemed like an eternity away. Lorenz could distantly feel callused fingers against his cheeks, warm palms cupping his face. 

“I’m not crying,” Lorenz said as Claude forced him to look up and away from the letter that was permanently etched into his memory. 

“Sure you aren’t,” Claude agreed clearly only for the sake of not having an argument. “Can you tell me what’s upset you? The letter? Looks like you weren’t the first person it upset.”

The letter was torn to shreds because the recipient had been upset by the contents. They had been upset because their request had been turned down. The commission had been declined and that’s what had caused the emotional reaction of tearing the letter apart. It wasn’t to hide the evidence of having asked in the first place. That wasn’t even a thought if Portia saw the letter be torn up and then had the mind to collect the discarded remnants.

His father had been upset that one of the best contract killers in Fodlan had turned down a contract for Lorenz’s life. 

“It’s...it’s nothing,” Lorenz eventually croaked out, all the pieces of himself trembling along the hairline cracks caused by decades of ignored, weighty evidence. “Claude…”

“Yes?”

“Would your...would your parents...would it ever cross their minds to try to contract someone to dispose of you?”

“What? Absolutely not. Even if I committed treason they’d want me alive to face judgement and atone.”

Claude’s prompt and definitive denial knocked the final, rickety beam out from under Lorenz’s mental construct of his relationship with his parents and buried him under decades of memories of moments--some fleeting, some significant--where it was apparent over and over that Lorenz was a convenience, a tool, an unfortunate necessity, and not a  _ person _ . He was a Gloucester heir, but a wanting one because he had only the  _ minor _ Crest of Gloucester. They’d keep him until they managed to have another son. A smarter, more handsome, more charismatic, better behaved,  _ worthy  _ son. They had  _ resigned _ themselves to him when it became apparent his mother couldn’t bear any more children and when all his father’s bastards were either stillborn or female. 

_ “Even the most masterful craftsmanship can’t make up for flawed materials.” _

_ They don’t love me!  _

Lorenz crumbled against Claude and clung to his shirt, burying his face in the cloth to muffle sobs that were wrenched from the deepest graves in his soul. He was drowning in the putrid pus that burst forth from rotting wounds left to fester for too long, lanced with brutal, white-hot, and inescapable truth. 

_ If they had loved me, they would have protected me! They would have believed me! They would have listened, would have cared, would not have punished me for being  _ weak. _ I was a child! They don’t love me now and they never did. _

The avalanche of thoughtless words, casually cruelty, and blatant disregard buried him in a darkness born of self-hatred, drowning him in sticky, sucking, black despair. He clung to Claude’s warmth, but it barely made a dent in his corpse-cold hands, penetrated the inky waters only shallowly. 

He thought he could hear talking, but it was almost too much effort to open his eyes. If he opened his eyes, he’d have to deal with his shattered reality like an adult, would have to pick up his pieces again and try to fit everything back together, filling in the holes with stubbornness and pride. He’d have to explain what was probably perceived as an overdramatic reaction, and would feel embarrassed for making such a fool of himself. 

So what if his parents didn’t love him? He wasn’t the first child to ever be hurt or unwanted by the people who brought him into the world. And anyway, moping would only give them time to scheme to hurt Claude or Marianne or Hilda or Leonie or Ignatz, and wouldn’t he feel like an asshole for not being present to intercept their machinations? He should be grateful that he had the foresight to assume his parents would try to hire assassins with the allowance he provided to them,  _ and _ that he had all of Fodlan’s best assassins on a payroll meant to keep them from being contracted to go after the people he cared about. There was no time for feeling sorry for himself when his friends’ lives were in danger for as long as they were at the Manse!

Lorenz reluctantly opened his eyes, and found he was nestled firmly against Claude, a blanket wrapped around and over him, with enough of an opening to get consistent fresh air, but otherwise fully swaddled. Claude was talking, as Lorenz had suspected, but it quickly became apparent that it was a running monologue--or, perhaps, a one-sided dialogue, since Lorenz caught on that Claude was speaking to  _ him _ in spite of never getting a response. 

Lorenz shifted enough to push the blanket away from covering his face and head, although his limbs felt like they were weighted down with lead.

“Hey,” Claude greeted him, his voice pitched low, soft, and gentle. “You back with me?”

“More or less,” Lorenz agreed, his voice hoarse. “Claude, I’m--”

“Don’t apologize,” Claude cut in. “When you’re ready, could you tell me what about that letter broke you? I read it, but I don’t  _ fully  _ understand it.”

Lorenz sighed. “It is a...sum of things.”

“I’m not in a rush.”

Lorenz was silent for a long moment, then said: “Fodlan has its own seedy underbelly, even without the Agarthans. There’s still the normal scum and villainy. My House has always had connections to the underworld, and I’m no different--I know people in low, dark places. I bankroll the most highly skilled assassins, paying them exorbitant sums to ensure that no one will be able to meet their  _ new _ asking price and thus prevent assassination attempts on my friends and the Sovereign. The letter is from Starling, one of the best.”

“It was declining a contract on your life,” Claude stated, before the pieces clicked. “Wait. You asked if my parents would ever try to assassinate me. So, then…?” 

Lorenz sighed. “My father was so upset that the contract on my life was refused that he tore up the letter and left it behind without remembering to dispose of it with a fire spell.”

“Lorenz…” 

“I always told myself that my parents  _ cared _ for me, that they loved me in their own way,” Lorenz continued. “A part of me always knew that wasn’t true, that they really were just waiting for a  _ better _ version of a Gloucester heir to be born, and simply had to suffer with inferior and damaged goods when it became apparent that I was an anomaly as both male and Crest-bearing. I was barely tolerated, let alone  _ loved _ . But, I had to believe they loved me, you know? If just to survive, I had to believe that they did what they did because they loved me, that all the pain had a  _ purpose _ besides simple cruelty. Admittedly, if I was a good and proper Gloucester, I wouldn’t be dealing with this...this...agony.”

“...dare I ask why?”

“I’m the first Gloucester to inherit the title of Count with my parents still alive. Usually, parricide is a requirement for ascension.”

“...your family is fucked up.”

“Yes, well, that’s becoming apparent to me, too,” Lorenz said and held onto Claude a little tighter.

Claude pressed a kiss to his head and gently rubbed circles on Lorenz’s back. “So, what are you going to do with this knowledge?”

“Confront them, I suppose,” Lorenz said after a long moment of thought. “I can’t...I can’t just let them get away with attempting to kill me. Because even though I control their finances rather strictly, what if they’re still up to their old ways, still trying to influence politics and whatnot through death using the money  _ I _ provide them? That’s...wrong. They need to be stopped.”

Claude nodded. “I agree. I’m here for you as backup.”

Lorenz sighed heavily. “But, how do I  _ tell _ them? What do I do if they...if--when--they  _ confirm _ it?”

“Not worried about them denying it?”

“Oh, if they deny it, I have evidence,” Lorenz said and pointed to the letter still sitting on the desk. “And Starling won’t lie to me, so I can threaten them with contacting him myself and getting the story from him.”

“You trust an assassin over your parents?”

“Horrifying, isn’t it?” Lorenz drawled. “I’m...I’m worried that I’ll break down in front of them if they confirm they tried to get someone to kill me. Doing that will stop them from answering any other questions I might have, and I need...I need information from them.”

“Right,” Claude said. “And neither of them will answer questions if I ask them, right?”

“Most likely.”

Claude sighed. “I hate...I hate that I can’t do more to help you besides be a physical presence.”

“The fact that you want to  _ be _ there when I confront them is...exceptional,” Lorenz said and pressed a kiss to Claude’s neck. 

Claude hummed slightly, then asked: “Will your staff bring you a bath now?”

“Yes. I was planning on a quick one anyway...what time is it?”

“There’s still time before dinner, if that’s what you’re asking,” Claude said. “I’m sure it felt like eternity for you, but it wasn’t  _ that _ long. You’re...very good at recovering quickly. Please do break down again if you need to, since I get the feeling how fast you bounced back isn’t entirely healthy.”

“I’ll break down when my friends aren’t in danger, so please expect me to cling to you and cry for the child I was at the first inn we stop at.”

“In danger? From your parents, you mean?”

“I can’t afford to succumb to my own emotions when it’s clear that my parents will stoop to  _ any _ low. I have to be prepared for them to, to...to  _ misbehave _ .”

“My love,” Cladue whispered and pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s forehead, then both his cheeks, then left a lingering kiss on his lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“Grieve for me once the danger has passed,” Lorenz said and struggled to fully unswaddle himself. “You are quite good at this.”

Claude chuckled and helped Lorenz disentangle himself. “Thank you, I suppose. So, do you want to wash away the letter?”

“Wash it away?” Lorenz repeated, curious. 

“Clean yourself and get rid of any cloying bad feelings engendered by the letter. I won’t do anything lewd, just will help you bathe and cleanse yourself of the bad memories. How does that sound? Dad would always take a bath after a hard day to wash it all away.”

“That sounds very much like magic,” Lorenz observed, amused. “Could you pull the cord near the door? That should summon Portia or Desdemona.”

“If that’s your way of trying to make me more comfortable with magic…” Claude started, but eventually wormed his way out from behind Lorenz, lying him down gently on the bed before disappearing from Lorenz’s view. 

_ What do I do now? _ Lorenz wondered as a long, slow sigh escaped him.  _ My parents...I don’t think there really is any preparing for the conversation. I’ll just...try to get as much in order a possible so we can leave for Almyra as soon as possible, because if they have tried to kill me before...what is preventing them from trying now, given all they have to lose...? _


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To start: CW: Abusive parents, bad coping mechanisms, implied past child abuse
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to everyone who has stuck out this monster of a fic. From what I can tell, we're nearing the halfway point, but there is still plenty to go. Thank you to all of you who read, comment, kudos, subscribe, whatever--I just like knowing other people take pleasure from my work. 
> 
> Finally, nothing FE:3H belongs to me.

It turned out that Lorenz’s mother had also sent out invitations to the feast to the local nobility and other noteworthies, and it seemed that the lure of a foreign  _ king _ was enough to overcome the ingrained caution of accepting an invite from a Gloucester, based on the replies he was receiving, at least. Not a single person had turned the invitation down yet, which was giving him a mild headache. The only thing that was both boon and bane was that the invites had come from his mother, and not him. It was good, in that he didn’t have to explain himself, but bade ill because it indicated his mother still thought she carried the power for domestic decisions in the House. 

_ It  _ is _ traditionally the domain of a wife, but I gave that power to Portia, _ he sighed and rubbed his temples.  _ That’s why she was in such a foul mood yesterday. _

“I’m sorry, Claude,” Lorenz said as he tucked another acceptance back into its envelope and set it on the table beside him in an ever-growing pile. “I didn’t know my mother would pull this kind of stunt.”

Claude looked up from working on decoding Lorenz’s poetry and gave him a wry smile. “If it were anyone besides your mother, I’d be flattered,” Claude said, “and would also see this as a way to help decrease the mystique around foreigners and maybe help encourage good relations. As it is, I think we’re sharing the same level of worry with each invite that comes back in the affirmative.”

Lorenz sighed. “I won’t let anything happen to any of you, I swear.”

“I know,” Claude said and blew him a kiss, which inexplicably made Lorenz’s face flush. 

The day was far drearier than the previous one, with murky grey clouds hanging low, threatening rain without actually raining. It might be good to have some rain--it had been some time since their last thorough, good soaking--but at the same time, rain always left Lorenz feeling mopey and listless. 

“Oh, a party does sound rather nice, though,” Hilda said as she braided Marianne’s hair, Marianne reading through the most recent correspondence Lorenz had on some of the current problems he had been dealing with just prior to his departure for the Almyran summit. 

“It might also be a good way to start introducing you in person as the Alliance leader, and--I should speak with Portia.”

“Hm? Why?” Marianne said distantly as she turned a page.

“Because she may be the Countess Gloucester and I’d like to introduce her as such if she agrees to it. I might not be able to get a  _ suitable _ dress made in time, but my mother has plenty of extras so I might just ransack her extra closet and we’ll make do.”

Lorenz flagged down one of the gardeners from the outside and sent the request for Portia to visit when she had the chance.

“That’s a little insulting, using your mom’s dresses,” Hilda said, frowning.

“I know it is rude, but it will have to do for now given the turn-around,” Lorenz sighed. “And there is no guarantee she’ll agree to rejoin my family anyway.”

“Lorenz?”

“Yes, Marianne?”

“Could I have a little more history on this issue?”

Lorenz took the letter from Marianne and skimmed it to refresh his recollection. It was a mild spat between two minor nobles over territory that had decades of bad blood behind it and which Lorenz knew would only  _ really _ be solved by marriage between the two houses, but both were fairly traditional and had only sons, and thus didn’t see marriage as an option. To be honest, Lorenz hadn’t either because he hadn’t been able to imagine two men marrying each other in sincerity; that had changed, but he had equivocated on the issue for too long for the suggestion to come from him--he did, however, offer it as an option for  _ Marianne _ to present. Marriage between people of any sex or gender was legal, after all.

“Lorenz, quickly look back up again?” Ignatz called out around the easel; Lorenz obliged and remained looking at Ignatz until the artist gave him an all-clear sign. Lorenz still hadn’t laid eyes on the painting-in-progress; he felt it would be bad luck for him to do that, even if he was dying to know how it was coming along. 

Claude had alternated between watching Ignatz work, decoding Lorenz’s old poetry, and serving as an errand boy/messenger, and seemed...relatively content, all things considered. It was still exceedingly thrilling, waking up sharing his bed with Claude, and that particular morning had left Lorenz with the burning desire to know who taught Claude to kiss, if just to thank them. The memories of those kisses buoyed his mood whenever he began to feel a trill of unease over how  _ quiet _ his parents had been. 

The entire morning through lunch had been uneventful, save for the constant stream of acceptances to the party and the occasional interruption for his approval of one thing or another in relation to the next day’s soiree. While it was clearly going to be a vastly more informal affair than the majority of parties Lorenz had attended, the fact that his mother had made it so short-notice only heightened the anticipation surrounding the event; that and it would be the first celebration of any kind outside of birthdays to be held on Gloucester lands in two centuries. 

As Lorenz was explaining the current taxation scheme to Marianne, Portia bustled in, her face slightly flushed. She opened her mouth to speak, but was distracted by the sight of Ignatz’s painting. Lorenz wasn’t sure what to make of how soft and fond her expression became, but the pause was a momentary hiccup before her attention fixed back on Lorenz.

“You called for me, Your Grace?” she asked with the appropriate curtsey.

“Yes,” Lorenz said, pulling his attention away from the complicated and obtuse math necessary for taxation. “I was wondering if you had given my offer any thought.”

Portia frowned in momentary confusion before understanding dawned. “I...yes, I have given it some consideration.”

“And?”

Portia squirmed, then sighed and said, “I’ll do it.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured into accepting the Gloucester name,” Lorenz said. “You will be  _ living _ with our parents and I doubt that they will allow you to forget your former station. If that seems like it would be too much stress or--”

“Your Grace?”

“Yes?”

Portia walked over, picking up a chair along the way, and sat down next to Lorenz. She swallowed, then reached out and gently placed one of her hands over Lorenz’s. “Listen. All my life, I hated my hair and eyes because of all the awful things that were associated with House Gloucester. Most of the time it was assumed that if I had been disowned by the  _ Gloucesters, _ of all Houses, I had to be something  _ especially _ monstrous, too awful for even them to tolerate. There’s so much misinformation about Crests out there, that for a very long time, I thought I was going to turn into a demonic beast or something like that. It was only when I managed to get tested for the presence of a Crest and found that I  _ didn’t _ have one that I suspected I may have been ejected because of something I  _ lacked _ . When word spread that the new Count was hiring for his household, I had a chance to truly  _ know _ whether or not I was a Gloucester and why I may have been disowned.”

“By the time you interviewed I had discovered that people like you may exist, but it was still a shock to see someone who looks so  _ similar _ to me,” Lorenz said with a wry smile. “I imagine it was even more jarring for you.”

“Like looking in a mirror!” Portia laughed, the sound with a slight edge of bitterness. “But, anyway. I spoke with Ceila and Ophelia and neither of them want anything to do with being Countess Gloucester, Rosalind is happiest as head cook, and our other half-sisters recoil from the thought of having to deal with the pressure of politics and being recognized as  _ legitimate _ . So, since handing the title back to your--our--father is entirely out of the question, yes, I’ll take on the title and position of Countess Gloucester. Just don’t forget about me when you become--oh, what’s the title again? Prince Consort!--Prince Consort to the King of Almyra.”

Lorenz chuckled, his face  _ burning _ . “After growing up without any family besides my parents, I don’t think it would be possible for me to forget that I have a sister now,” he said. “I’ll have the paperwork drawn up by Horatio and ready for your signature by the end of today. I’d like to start introducing you as the Countess Gloucester at the party, if that would be okay with you?”

Portia blinked, then laughed, the sound  _ mildly _ panicked. “I...I suppose that would make sense to do that. It’s good it’s not a  _ super _ formal party or anything, then, isn’t it?”

“You’re shorter than our mother but of roughly the same build, so we can probably tailor one of her dresses to fit you? I’m sorry for putting you through the indignity…”

“It’s fine,” Portia said in a heavy sigh. “I understand and I’m used to hand-me-downs.”

“It will be your last hand-me-down you own unless you choose otherwise,” Lorenz said firmly. “I am...simply sorry it took this long  _ and _ that it is moving so quickly. This is something you should be given time to acclimate to, but--”

“But it is what it is,” Portia cut in. “Now, I’m sure we have plenty of other things to discuss regarding my ascension to Countess and whatnot, but I  _ do _ have a party coming up tomorrow. After you...you debut me as Countess, we can address all the countless other complications waiting in the wings. Okay...brother?”

“Of course,” Lorenz said, his face inexplicably heating, an emotion he couldn’t quite name curling through him. “Thank you for taking on this burden.”

“It’s not like I don’t already run the household when you’re away anyway, like you said, so the only burden is becoming related to our parents again,” Portia said with a grim smile as she stood. “Now, if that’s all…?”

“It is for now, yes,” Lorenz said. “Please take your choice of clothing from mother’s closets. You know how to get in touch with the seamstress and whatnot, don’t worry about price for the alterations. Do send Horatio my way, too, please.”

Portia nodded and reflexively curtseyed before striding out of the solarium.

“You know, she’s going to be the first Countess Gloucester to wield power.”

Lorenz looked to Marianne, then grimaced. “Ah, yes. She will be the first Countess Gloucester to wield power independently of a husband, this is true.”

“Why?” Hilda asked.

“Tradition,” Lorenz said with a defeated shrug. “I think it stems from the original Elite Gloucester being a man, but I can’t tell you that for sure. I know you’ll both be exceedingly busy, but if you could please look out for my sister? I’m going to reach out to some people to assist her as well as inform all our friends about the change in leadership. Hopefully some will have time to visit...”

“There!” Ignatz proclaimed and set down his brush, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing some yellow paint across his face. “Done.”

“Done?” Lorenz repeated, surprised. “I thought you said you’d be done tomorrow?”

“You were a good subject,” Ignatz replied with a grin. “And now you can unveil it at the party! It just needs to dry overnight.”

“Might I see it?” Lorenz asked.

“Sure,” Ignatz said. “I mean, it is  _ your  _ portrait, so you’ll have to let me know if you’re happy with it or if you want me to redo it…”

“I’m sure it’s delightful,” Lorenz said, but as he was about to stand, Horatio, the Manse’s barrister, arrived. 

“Portia said you wanted to see me?” the man asked. 

“Yes, I need your help drawing up papers reinstating a noble title and an ascension. Portia will be taking over as Countess Gloucester while I am away in Almyra.”

“P-pardon?”

“She’s my older sister,” Lorenz said. “Questions later, I want this done. I’m sorry, but I will be distracted, so if you want to take the rest of the afternoon to wander the grounds, please feel free to do so,” Lorenz said to Hilda and Marianne. “You know that any of my household will happily act as your guide.”

Marianne shook her head slowly. “I want to watch.”

“As you will,” Lorenz said and snapped his fingers under Horatio’s nose, causing the man, who had been previously gaping at him, to startle. “Don’t act so surprised and get to work. Please.”

“R-right,” Horatio said and took a seat, pulling paper, a quill, and ink out of the briefcase he had been carrying with him. 

Claude had to be sent to Lorenz’s study to pick up a few law textbooks, but through their combined efforts, they managed to draw up all the necessary paperwork. Having Marianne and Claude present, both of whom were dignitaries with clout, allowed for both a witness and a notary to be present as the documents were signed. 

“Now, all this requires is for a Portia to sign the necessary copies and the duplicates sent to Garreg Mach for official safekeeping,” Lorenz sighed as Horatio massaged his wrist with a pained look on his face. 

“We’ll get her to sign and talk to her,” Hilda offered and gathered up the documents. “Don’t worry, it’ll get sent out tonight.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said and watched as Marianne and Hilda walked off with the documents held carefully, the two of their heads bowed together as they talked quickly and quietly.

“Thank you for your hard work,” Lorenz said to Horatio, who shook his head. 

“You wrote all the duplicates, I’m  _ astonished _ your wrist doesn’t hurt,” Horatio grumbled. “My fingers are numb.”

“I’ll make sure you get a little more compensation this month,” Lorenz said. “Thank you for your work.”

“I am much less busy now that you give your parents a pittance each month,” Horatio said and stood, stretching, his shoulders cracking. “Best thing you ever did, in my opinion.”

As Horatio wandered away, briefcase tucked under his arm, he held the door open for Arthur, who was walking towards Lorenz with  _ purpose _ . That never promised anything good. 

“Arthur,” Lorenz greeted absently. Ignatz had already broken down his set-up and left the solarium, so Lorenz would have to wait for the next day to see the finished painting. 

“Your father wishes to speak with you,” Arthur said after giving both Lorenz and Claude polite bows.

“Does he now?” Lorenz asked, worry curling through him. “I should--”

“Hold on a sec,” Claude said and put a hand on Lorenz’s shoulder, holding him sitting down. “What does the dickbag want?”

Arthur’s expression never changed. “He didn’t say. Lord Albany indicated it was urgent.”

“Lord Albany can go sit on a cactus,” Claude drawled. “If it was  _ that _ urgent, he would have come to get Lorenz himself. You’ve delivered the message, thank you. Count Gloucester will see his father when he gets the time.”

Arthur looked to Lorenz, who nodded once, the gesture tight and worried, but resolute.

“Very well, Your Grace. Your Majesty,” Arthur said and gave them a deep, appropriate bow before leaving the solarium. Once Arthur was out of hearing, Lorenz turned to Claude.

“Claude, why--”

“Because I wasn’t lying,” Claude said. “If it was  _ urgent, _ your father would’ve come to the Solarium, but because he knows that I’m here with you he’s avoiding it and making you come to him. I’m sure it actually isn’t anything  _ important _ , since all the correspondence comes to you, so what does he have to do with his day besides sit around and plot ways to make your life miserable?”

Lorenz sighed. “I can’t think of what he might want, either. But...it is fortuitous in a way.”

Claude frowned, confused for a moment before comprehension dawned. “Ah, right. This would be a chance to talk to him about  _ that _ , right?”

“Yes,” Lorenz affirmed. “But, I haven’t the foggiest idea about how to broach the topic in the first place.”

“I’m sure you’ll see an opening,” Claude said. “You’re talking like you’re going alone, though. You’re not. I’m going with you.”

“If you do, they likely won’t even speak with me,” Lorenz sighed. “But, I  _ do _ want you there. I just need to figure out  _ how _ you can both be there and not.”

“I can wait outside the door?” Claude offered. “And that way they’ll likely also be more honest about what they did or didn’t do, and you’ll have either a witness or backup, depending on how the conversation goes.”

“You think it might go...poorly?”

“I honestly can’t tell you,” Claude said. “You’ve done a very good job at keeping us and your parents separate; I only ran into your mother in the hallways once, and she acted exactly like you said--as if she had stepped in dog shit, but otherwise ignored me. Your father...doesn’t leave his suite often or much, does he?”

“His injury was substantial and walking is more chore than pleasure for him these days,” Lorenz said.

“I thought he ran and Hilda’s brother took the brunt of the attack?” Claude asked. 

“I believe you might call it  _ poetic justice _ , but as he was leading the retreat while Lord Goneril held the line, a few lucky arrows from the enemy--possibly the puppet Riegan--brought down his horse. He didn’t get his foot out of the stirrup in time, so when the horse fell it broke his leg in multiple places with its weight and the force of the fall. It was healed, of course, but he isn’t exactly  _ young _ anymore, so it did not heal as well as hoped. Some days are better than others, but today’s weather is likely making his leg ache and reducing his mobility.”

“Poetic justice indeed,” Claude murmured. “Right. Well, before you leave, let’s try to think about what he might want to  _ talk _ to you about and we can strategize your responses so you have something to counter him with.”

“...very well. Let’s see.”

Lorenz dredged up all the  _ possibilities _ that he could think of and Claude turned out to be an eerily accurate stand-in for his father, to the point that they had to stop because Lorenz was having difficulty breathing. 

“You really do pay attention to everything, don’t you?” Lorenz half-asked. “He must have been a right ass to you during roundtables.”

“I do, and, yes, he was,” Claude confirmed. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m fine,” Lorenz said. “Getting the fear out of the way now will be better for the future. I think...I think I can face him now. Just...don’t stray too far from the door, okay? I doubt that a conversation about whether or not he actually hired people to try to kill me will end particularly well for  _ me _ .”

“I’d be at your side if I could, but he wouldn’t confess to anything with me there,” Claude said glumly, running his thumb gently over Lorenz’s knuckles. “This is your last conversation with them  _ alone _ , though. All future conversations, I’m by your side. Got it, Count Gloucester?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Claude ran his fingers through Lorenz’s hair to settle it, straightened his waistcoat, double-checked Lorenz’s cufflinks, then offered his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Indeed,” Lorenz agreed and, together, hand-in-hand, they walked to Lorenz’s parent’s wing, stopping by Lorenz’s rooms to pick up Starling’s letter as insurance and evidence.

The wing his parents lived in was the oldest section of the building, and while it technically was the suite of rooms for the Count Gloucester, Lorenz had let his parents keep it so he could build his own rooms. The hallways carried too many memories and the rooms were drenched with the echoes of loneliness--there was no way he would have been able to live in the Count’s suite. So, he was content to let them keep it and have his own built to  _ his _ specifications. 

“Lorenz, talk to me,” Claude said, and Lorenz realized that he was feeling dizzy due to holding his breath as he passed certain rooms in his parents’ wing.

“I’ll tell you...I’ll tell you later,” Lorenz eventually said once he had sufficiently regained his breath and steadied himself. “The stories are too long and fraught for now.”

“As you wish,” Claude said, his eyes dark with concern.

All too soon, they stood in front of the door to his parents’ rooms.

_ I can do this, _ Lorenz told himself. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but Claude caught it before it could make contact and stood on tip-toe to press a somehow  _ soothing _ kiss to Lorenz’s lips. It was...gentle, understanding, and reassuring, all at the same time and in the minimum amount of contact. Lorenz gave Claude the best smile he could, then turned back to the door.

Lorenz knocked sharply and authoritatively and received an acknowledgement and permission to enter. He felt like he was going to vomit, but he had to  _ know _ if his parents truly thought so little of him as to attempt to commission an assassin. He felt Claude lightly squeeze his fingers, then let go so Lorenz could enter on his own. Claude would be more-or-less pressed to the door, but, for now, he had to go it alone.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Lorenz asked after entering, closing the door before they could catch sight of Claude hovering. 

His mother and father were both in the sitting room, his mother working on a piece of embroidery as his father sat drinking his afternoon tea, a book open on his lap. The man was looking more cussed than usual, clearly already half-worked up into a tirade. Based upon the particular shade of his face, he had probably been stewing for some time. Lorenz was perversely glad Claude had delayed him to discuss how he was going to handle the confrontation instead of immediately heading off when the summons came.

Lorenz had the strangest sense of...disembodiment as he waited for his father’s response. He had always felt proud that his appearance took after his father, but he suddenly found himself... _ repulsed _ by it all. A part of him recoiled at how looking at his father was like looking in a mirror, like he was looking at  _ himself _ under different circumstances. Cold. Bitter.  _ Hard _ . 

_ “Our troubles make us cruel, angry, unforgiving. It is a choice to be soft, caring, and empathic; even more than that, it is a choice that requires strength.” _

The author he had corresponded with had written that in her final letter to him, when she had given him a first-copy of the book she had written with his help. It had stuck with him through his rougher years and consistently guided his policy decisions.

_ And it is because I remain soft that I am not my father, _ Lorenz thought, standing up slightly straighter. He wouldn’t sit down unless invited, since standing gave him more space to move if necessary, and he could feel his magic curling just beneath his skin. That he was already so on edge--and thought that he might have a confrontation with his father--bade ill for their...conversation. The silence stretched out interminably, but Lorenz had already asked after what his father wanted; it was up to the other man to clarify the reason for his summons. 

“I am severely disappointed with you, Lorenz,” the former-Count said in a dangerous, calm tone. 

The Lorenz of two weeks or so ago would have been sent into a panicked spiral by both his tone and the words chosen, but the Lorenz of two week ago  _ also _ didn’t know what actual love was like. The admonishment still made his stomach lurch, but he didn’t question all his actions and words as he would have done before. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Lorenz replied, remembering how Claude had claimed the phrase was a non-apology, and Lorenz would  _ not _ apologize for choosing Claude.

“I can’t fathom where I went wrong,” his father continued. “That you would sleep with another man--under  _ my _ roof! I’d like to say that I can’t believe you would shame yourself so, but I’m not surprised you turned out to be a sodomite. You will bring ruin to our family with your deviance.” 

“ _ Your _ roof? Last I checked, the Manse belongs to me. It is  _ my _ home, Father. You stepped down when you were injured in the fight against Nemesis. I have  _ allowed _ you to continue living here out of kindness and respect.” Lorenz repeated coolly. His father was right on a technicality--he had indeed shared a bed with Claude, even if he hadn’t shared his body. Yet. “The sex of the person I have chosen does not and will not have any bearing on my nobility or conduct.  _ I  _ have only ever brought honor to our family,” Lorenz continued. “It is  _ you  _ who acted unbecoming of a noble and conducted yourself poorly throughout your tenure as the head of House Gloucester.”

“I have only ever done what is best for our House, unlike  _ you _ .”

“It is true that I put the concerns of the people of Fodlan above the concerns of my House, and your actions and mine  _ are _ quite unlike. You used intimidation and assassination to acquire power and influence. Your hands are stained with the blood of the people you are honor-bound to protect, merchants whose only crime was to trade with the wrong House. You killed a man because his sister spurned your advances. You chose the wrong side in the war for Fodlan’s soul. You have done  _ nothing _ to increase our renown, instead only making House Gloucester famous for underhanded and ruthless tactics in the quest for power. I have spent the majority of  _ my _ time as Count Gloucester undoing all the  _ damage  _ you did.”

“Everything I did was for the benefit of House Gloucester--and for  _ your _ benefit. It’s a shame that Tiana whelped that half-blood scum and--”

“You will speak  _ respectfully _ of the Almyran King,” Lorenz interrupted, his voice low and heated.

“Almyrans are nothing but animals and should be treated as such,” the former-Count retorted, his voice laced with disdain.

“How strange, then, that you are throwing a party for him,” Lorenz said dryly. “Unless my mother kept that from you?”

“It’s not  _ actually _ for him,” she said. “I merely knew that no one would turn down a chance to gawk at the exotic foreign king, so women who wouldn’t normally attend will do so for a glimpse of the Almyran.”

“Do not treat him as if he is some  _ curiosity _ ,” Lorenz snapped. “He is a wonderful and brilliant man who will endure this farce of a celebration in order to move a step closer to the equitable and open world he envisions. Perhaps I should  _ thank _ you for your thoughtlessness, though, since this soiree may advance his agenda of breaking down barriers between Fodlan and other cultures. How  _ generous _ of you.”

“I expect you to make every effort to find a bride amongst the attendees,” his mother said, clearly ignoring him.

“I have  _ chosen _ Khalid,” Lorenz said.

“I will not have you, you...sowing your seed in fallow ground!” his mother snapped.

“Where I choose to  _ sow my seed _ is not your concern,” Lorenz said. “This is the third time we are having this conversation. I am not changing my mind, and no machinations you engineer will change my heart. Is my sex life  _ really _ that interesting to you?”

“You are not behaving as a Count Gloucester should!” his father said.

“Oh, because I’m not going about massacring merchants?” Lorenz drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or is it because I’m not organizing the assassination of political rivals in a misguided attempt at seduction?”

The former Count Gloucester grit his teeth in anger, his veins popping out on his forehead. “I should never have transferred power to you.”

“And yet, you did, knowing full well that your wounded body won’t allow you to govern as required,” Lorenz replied. “I have already accomplished more in my few years as Count Gloucester than you did during your entire tenure, and that must  _ grate _ so.”

“You think too highly of yourself,” his father sneered. “You have achieved nothing on your own merit. Do you honestly think you were smart or strong enough for either the School of Sorcery or Garreg Mach? I  _ bought  _ your place in both. Without my ample contributions to the coffers of both institutions, you  _ never _ would have set foot in either of their halls. Your achievements only come because of groundwork laid by others.”

“My successes are my own!”

“You are nothing but a vulture, swooping in to lay claim to a prize that others before you worked so hard for. That is the ‘country’ you have inherited--the corpse of the Alliance, a once proud sovereignty that you allowed to be dissolved then bastardized. Now, you’re whoring yourself out to foreigners. Is that why you’ve been so ‘successful’ with your ‘diplomacy?’ I suppose such  _ diplomatic relations _ are one of the oldest tricks in the book. I just never imagined that you would stoop to such lows.”

“Is that really the only way you can conceive to get people to like you?” Lorenz asked, his face burning. “Trading sexual favors for treaties? Perhaps  _ I _ shouldn’t be surprised that you can’t fathom that people would like you on your own merits and would want to work  _ with _ you rather than  _ against _ you. Coercion, blackmail, rape-- _ that _ is how you ruled all the years you served as Count Gloucester, Father, isn’t it?”

“You have no right to criticize my methods when you benefited from them,” the former-Count said archly.

“I have every right, considering how  _ my _ methods have had so much greater impact,” Lorenz said. “You are not a noble. You are nothing more than a...a common  _ criminal _ who was protected by history, prestige, and money.”

The silence that fluctuated between them was laced with potent hostility, and Lorenz was torn between feeling terrified and irate. 

“You are sick, Lorenz,” the former-Count said, his voice dripping with venom and patronizing disdain. “I knew your mother and I were too gentle with you. Your compassion for others is nothing but a weakness and a nuisance.”

“And that compassion for others is what provoked you to try to hire Starling to kill me?” Lorenz semi-demanded. 

How his mother’s breath caught and her abrupt, tense stillness told Lorenz she was in on the asassination plot, and the child-Lorenz that clung to her skirts to try to get even a passing smile out of her wailed in grief. 

_ Even pooling their allowances wouldn’t have brought them anywhere near Starling’s asking price now, _ Lorenz thought, bitterly pleased, smothering that part of him for the time being. 

“What makes you think I’d hire out someone as  _ prestigious _ as Starling to kill  _ you _ ?” the former-Count said smoothly. “You’re not worth that level of skill.”

Lorenz tilted his head slightly and said, “You wouldn’t let your  _ only son  _ be killed by some no-name assassin. That would bring shame to the House Gloucester, to be taken down so, so you  _ needed _ to hire Starling, and no one less. How annoying, then, to be turned down so bluntly.”

His father’s face flushed again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lorenz took the letter out of his pocket, carefully unfolded it and read: “I will not kill Lorenz. I have spent your ‘down payment’ on his life on three rounds for everyone at the inn for his continued good health. Go fuck yourself, stop contacting me, and be grateful I don’t kill  _ you _ out of annoyance.”

“Clearly a forgery, if it is without a signature,” his mother said, her eyes flickering between Lorenz, his father, and her embroidery. 

“It came with a starling feather, which is how they sign their missives,” Lorenz said. “It also sounds like something they’d do. Starling is pragmatic and just spiteful enough to do as indicated in the letter.”

“And how would you know that?” his father asked. “Associating with assassins, what other lows do you seek to achieve? How far in the mud do you wish to drag our House?”

“As if you did not introduce me to a few assassins yourself,” Lorenz said, his eyebrows rising slightly. “We are  _ known _ for our underworld contacts. Stop lying to me--it is ignoble and unnecessary.”

“You would believe an assassin over your own father?” his mother said, scandalized indignation threading her tone.

“Yes,” Lorenz answered simply.

Silence stretched out between them, and Lorenz was idly longing for the delightfully awful bottle of Srengish liquor that was hidden in his room. He didn’t drink to get drunk often, but this seemed a good reason.

His father eventually gave a needlessly dramatic sigh. “Lorenz, I  _ allowed _ Portia to collect the letter, knowing she would give it to you. I thought that the knowledge that I would hire an assassin would force you to course-correct, not...encourage your defiance.”

“What? You thought it would...force me into behaving as you desire?” Lorenz asked, mildly disbelieving. “You believed that knowing that my own father would reach out to Fodlan’s premiere assassin to kill me would make me  _ behave _ ?”

“Of course,” his father said simply. “You have always had a strong survival instinct, and every other time you’ve had a brush with death you’ve fallen in line.”

“I…” Lorenz trailed off, stunned momentarily to silence. “You’ve tried to kill me before?”

“Oh, it was always carefully arranged so you  _ wouldn’t _ die--I couldn’t afford to lose my heir--but come close enough for you to consider yourself either lucky or skilled,” his father said. “It always made you introspective, and also inevitably brought you back in line with how a Gloucester should behave. How unfortunate that this time has only made you...recalcitrant.”

“Mother! Did you--no, of course you knew,” Lorenz said, hating the bitterness that crept into his tone. “How could you not? You are my father’s compliment.”

“Lorenz, everything we did was for your own good,” his mother said, giving him an earnest look. “We...we had to make sure you were on the correct path. All those silly notions about equity and justice are just pretty ideals that have no root in reality. Life is harsh, unforgiving. We couldn’t afford for you to be weak. You had to be like...like granite in order to survive this world and lead it effectively. I can’t think of where we could have possibly gone wrong that you turned out to be coal instead of diamond.”

There was a brief silence as Lorenz wrangled his emotions into stillness, before he asked, “Our sessions in the dungeon...did you enjoy them, father? No, the better question is--which did you enjoy more? The ones where you taught me how to hurt others, or the times when you  _ exposed _ me to pain?”

“You almost made me proud during those lessons,” Albany said. “You always had a high pain tolerance, but were too gentle when you--”

“You did not answer my question, Albany,” Lorenz said. “Let me rephrase it, then. Did you take pleasure in hurting me, father?”

“It was not done out of pleasure, but necessity,” Albany evaded. “I needed to serve as a...a refiner’s fire. I had to purify all the weakness from you, both physical and emotional. Yet I seemed to have failed, if you spread your legs for any foreigner just to please your former Professor.”

“You did not make me  _ strong _ , you made me  _ afraid _ !” Lorenz snapped, distantly aware that he was trembling slightly.

“That is a character flaw you possess, not a result of my teaching,” Albany said smoothly. “I went through everything you did, if not worse, and I turned out perfect. I should have known that you would lead us to ruin when you wouldn’t kill that  _ animal _ like I ordered you.”

“Khalid is a wonderful man who leads his people with the strength of compassion and intelligence. However, it has become increasingly apparent to me that you are nothing but  _ trash _ ,” Lorenz said, deeply offended on Claude’s behalf. “I am half-tempted to toss you out like the garbage you are. I have allowed you to continue to live here out of respect and consideration for your age and health, but I can change my mind about the arrangement.” 

“You wouldn’t  _ dare _ \--”

“I would!” Lorenz interrupted. “I did not lie about exiling you before, and I am not lying now either. Tell me, how many people would find sympathy in their hearts for you? Who would take you in or protect you? I am currently friends with all the House leaders and high nobility in Fodlan, so if I tell them to not offer you succor, they will not, and neither will their vassals. You will be alone and beggared, and you would  _ deserve it _ for all the pain you have caused.” 

His mother--Phebe--clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Come now, Lorenz, calm down. Such ill tempers are bad for the humors.”

“ _ Calm down _ ? I--I  _ loved you _ . Both of you! I did everything in my power to please you, to make you proud, but my accomplishments have never meant anything to you, have they?” Lorenz said, his voice breaking. “ _ Why _ ? Why did you...why did you give me hope that I could be a worthy son when I would never measure up in your eyes?”

“Because humans are foolish,” Phebe said sadly. “We thought that there had to be  _ something _ special about you, to be a Gloucester male  _ and _ possessing a Crest, minor though it is.” 

“Perhaps there is redeeming you yet, though,” Albany said. “Kill that  _ creature _ . He trusts you, so is likely to let his guard down around you. You’ve killed on the battlefield--you know how  _ easy _ it is. Bring me his head and I’ll consider you a worthy heir. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely not,” Lorenz said. “If killing the one person who  _ loves _ me is what it takes to earn your, your,  _ positive regard _ , I don’t want it.”

Albany snorted. “He doesn’t love you.”

“Yes, he does.”

“No one will ever love you. Look at you. You’re so effeminate that I’m surprised your penis hasn’t sloughed off. You’re weak of will, body, and magic, prone to hysterics, constantly seeking affirmation of your worth--which proves that even  _ you _ know you are worth  _ nothing _ . Perhaps you should do everyone a favor and kill yourself. Save me the money and the assassins the effort. It’s so frustrating that the greatest of the Gloucester line somehow sired the most worthless.”

Shivers of disgust and despair were constantly traveling up and down Lorenz’s spine, leaving him shaking ever so slightly, his skin prickled in goosebumps. “Is this all you summoned me here for? To...insult and belittle me? Was all this orchestrated to make me...ask for your forgiveness? To ‘fall in line’ and be a Proper Gloucester?”

“You’re only in your thirties and you’ve been through quite a lot,” his mother said, her voice laced with fake sympathy. “It...it might look suspicious to hand power back to your father, so how about you retain the title of Count, but in reality it will be your father who is governing? That way you can focus on finding a wife and starting a family without having to worry about the pressures of politics. You’re too  _ delicate _ , Lorenz. We should have made sure you were married and with an heir before giving you power. We didn’t give you enough responsibilities when you were younger, which is why you’re so inept now. The position of husband and father will give you practice at ruling, and when you’ve proved you’re capable of controlling a woman and children we’ll give you full power back. How does that sound? Good, right?”

“I need time to think,” Lorenz said, feeling oddly detached.

“I look forward to either receiving news of the Almyran cur’s demise or you returning power to me,” Albany said, going back to his tea, the smallest of triumphant smirks on his face. 

_ Kill him _ ! The possessive creature snarled, and Lorenz felt the heady flush of  _ power _ that was his Crest activating within him, and his hands grew warm with untapped and unformed magic.  _ He would hurt Claude! That cannot be tolerated! _

There was a certain seduction to the wild, brief fantasy of watching Albany burn, in listening to his dying screams as his flesh melted and his bones charred. The scent would even be tolerable when held against the pleasure of watching the light of life fade from his eyes. 

However, the Crest’s gift of extra power was brief, and as the energy faded, it pulled his anger with it, leaving him feeling cold and desolate. “I will be taking my dinner in my suite tonight,” Lorenz said, his voice ruthlessly neutral. “I will see you tomorrow during the party.”

“Of course,” Phebe said with a relieved smile. “When should I send Richard to your suite? Will seven o’clock be sufficient time for you to kill the Almyran?”

“You misunderstand me,” Lorenz said. “I don’t know how many times I need to repeat it, but I’m not killing Khalid. I will see you tomorrow.”

Lorenz opened the door slightly, enough to serve as a warning, and he heard someone take quick steps back, before he opened it enough to step through and closed it behind him firmly. Claude wasn’t the only one waiting for him on the other side; apparently Claude’s hovering had attracted the attention of other members of the household, along with Marianne and Leonie. The array of emotions on faces was wide and varied, from horror and disgust to pity and anguish.

Lorenz quirked an eyebrow and the household members dispersed quickly and near-silently--a skill most of them had learned during the years of the war. Leonie looked rather murderous, Marianne distraught, and Claude...was difficult to read. Lorenz recognized the same expression of distance in Claude’s eyes that meant he was struggling to piece together what passed for  _ family _ in Lorenz’s life. Lorenz blocked Leonie with his arm and shook his head sharply, resting his hand on her shoulder and nudging her backwards. She reluctantly followed the motion, although the daggers she was glaring at the door should have left holes in it. Marianne reached out and gently brushed her fingertips against Lorenz’s cheek, which provoked the smallest of brittle smiles from him. He shepherded his companions out of his parents’ wing, then gestured them into one of the many spare rooms in the Manse. 

“I know how long Claude was listening in for,” Lorenz said. “How much did other people overhear?”

“I wasn’t there for long,” Marianne said. “I only overheard...I think I overheard that your father hurt you.”

“I heard him say that he hired people to kill you,” Leonie said, crossing her arms under her chest as she vibrated in fury. “What the  _ hell _ was he thinking?! And your mom’s barely any better!”

“A couple people came looking for you or your parents to deliver responses to the feast,” Claude said, his voice soft and neutral as he pulled out a number of envelopes from his sash. “People were curious and that made them linger. I...don’t think that anyone here has any higher of an opinion of your parents. The door muffled a lot of what was said, but tone and the words that did come through...well, those were fairly damning.”

Lorenz tried to take the letters from Claude, but his hold on them remained strong as he caught Lorenz’s eyes. “May I hug you?”

“If you do, I will not recover,” Lorenz said. “I have letters I need to write, orders I need to issue.”

“Can you issue a death warrant?” Leonie asked, apparently morbidly curious.

“Only the Church can execute criminals,” Lorenz said. “No, I’m liquifying my parents’ assets. I’ve unearthed all their little holes where they’ve hidden extra money and am going to collect it all and donate it to the Church. Among other things. Leonie, might you ask Viola to post a guard to my parents? I don’t want them to bolt or try anything  _ funny _ .”

“Sure thing,” Leonie said. “What should they do if your parents try to run away or something?”

“Subdue but don’t kill,” Lorenz said. “Thank you.”

“Kinda hoping they try to bolt just so I can put an arrow through your father’s leg,” Leonie grumbled as she left. 

“Marianne, I promise that I’ll do my best to keep you safe from my father’s machinations,” Lorenz said, looking to her. “I’m...I’m going to turn them over to the Church for judgement. I’ve had enough time to collect evidence of their transgressions that if I hand it over, I’m sure that they’ll either be stripped of their rank or exiled. I...I don’t think I could have them killed.”

“Even when they admitted to trying to kill you?” Marianne asked, hesitantly reaching out to him and putting her hand on his shoulder. 

“If I am to be better than them, that means not stooping to their level,” Lorenz said. “Not that I don’t trust both you and Hilda to protect each other, but do you want me to assign you a security detail while you are still here? If you want to leave, I will understand and--”

“No, Lorenz, you shouldn’t be alone,” Marianne said, shaking her head. “Not anymore. If it will make you feel better, Hilda and I will take the guard.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said sincerely. “You should...there are certain procedures you should learn when it comes to turning in evidence and criminals to the Church. Sit with me while I write the appropriate form letters.”

Lorenz had turned in bandits and other petty criminals--as well as two assassins who refused to take his bribes--to the Church for judgement, so was decently versed in the procedure. Claude hovered over his shoulder the entire time, seeming like a ball of anxious energy without an outlet. He was clearly biting his tongue and it was likely killing him to not touch Lorenz, but seemed also aware that Lorenz dealing with his emotions would likely involve a lot of crying and cuddles and not much else. It was still distressing to see Claude distressed.

It took little time to get the letters in order for hand-over of criminals and Lorenz handed them off to his best and most trustworthy messenger. He also reached out to Viola via another member of the household with a letter requesting two of her best be assigned to Hilda and Marianne. 

“Hopefully you won’t have to write many of those,” Lorenz said with a faint smile once the messenger departed. “You don’t need to stay here if you have other things you’d rather be doing. I’m just going to be writing letters to--you know what, I’ll tell you about who I’m writing so you know some more about the Alliance’s underground.”

It was oddly soothing, telling Marianne about all the grifters and assassins and loan sharks and seedy individuals he dealt with on a fairly regular basis, because she seemed  _ fascinated _ by it all. Claude also seemed to settle slightly, if only because he discovered that he could stroke Lorenz’s hair and nothing bad would happen. His parents had limited hidden assets, however, so eventually all the necessary letters had been sent for that as well.

“I…” Lorenz sighed. “I’m going to have dinner with just Claude. I hope you aren’t insulted. You know Rosalind won’t let you go hungry.”

“It’s fine,” Marianne said. “I have plenty to think about anyway. Running the Alliance is...complicated.”

“That is putting it lightly,” Lorenz said wryly. “But, you’ll have plenty of people willing to help you.” He stood, and Marianne and Claude both followed suit. He was relieved to find Lysander waiting for him outside of the spare room--he was one of the best soldiers at the Manse, and Lorenz felt  _ relieved _ knowing Marianne would be in good hands. They parted ways, and Lorenz caught one of the lesser servants and asked for Portia to send his dinner to his suite. Concern and pity shadowed the servant’s eyes, which said that rumors of his  _ conversation _ with his parents were already circulating in the Manse. 

“I would rather not be pitied by my employees,” Lorenz murmured once they were in his wing and alone.

“Do not consider it pity, but...sympathy or maybe empathy. I bet that some of your employees have dealt with abusive parents as well. They may have simply gained some...perspective on their employer,” Claude offered and opened the door to Lorenz’s personal suite for him. 

Lorenz murmured a thank you and stepped in, his shoulders dropping as he did so.

“May I hug you now?” Claude asked once the door was closed and locked.

“Yes, please,” Lorenz responded and held out his arms to Claude as he turned towards him. For all that the Crest of Riegan was in the shape of a moon and was alternatively called the Star Dragon Crest, Claude was the sun to Lorenz, and he constantly ached for his warmth. It felt heavenly to have Claude’s arms around him, and he buried his face in Claude’s hair, breathing in his scent. 

Lorenz wasn’t sure how long they stayed simply  _ holding _ each other, but eventually Claude spoke up: “We should make a blanket and pillow fort.”

“Pardon?” Lorenz said, pulling back enough to look at Claude. 

“You have enough furniture for a truly spectacular fort,” Claude said. “Do you have the linens for it?”

“Why...why would one make a ‘fort’ out of pillows and blankets?” Lorenz asked, baffled.

“Because it’s fun and easy and we can hide from the uncomfortable reality of life for a little while when in it,” Claude said. He pulled the cord for the bell that would alert the household and eventually coaxed Lorenz into helping to plan the fort. Desdemona was the one who checked in on them, and once Claude explained his ‘pillow fort’ idea, Desdemona looked  _ thrilled _ ; within ten minutes, the furniture in his personal suite had been rearranged and draped with various fabrics to create a rather elaborate ‘fort’ of covered crawl-paths and tight, intimate spaces. They had even managed to create a space big enough for him and Claude to take dinner by dim, careful candlelight. It all felt very silly and incredibly juvenile, but Desdemona, Portia (who came to check up on them and why the hell Desdemona needed so many sheets), and Claude all assured him that sometimes a person simply Needed a pillow fort. Once it was fully constructed, Portia left the tray laden with their dinner on one of the few non-sheet-covered surfaces and Claude pointedly locked the door. 

“C’mon, let’s get you in your most comfortable pajamas,” Claude said and went to Lorenz’s armoire and opened it, rifling through until he found Lorenz’s sleepwear. “Here! This has a rose pattern. Let’s use this one.”

“Why are...why are you doing all this?” Lorenz asked, bewildered and strongly off-balance. “I’m not a child.”

“No, but I’m sure the child-Lorenz is hurting and you’ve just shut him up because it’s a way of coping,” Claude said. 

“We’re adding liquor to our dinner.”

“Oh? You actually drink something other than tea?”

Lorenz snorted. “Not often and not much. Most alcohol just goes straight to giving me headaches, with a brief stop in inappropriate laughter. I tolerate wine well since I grew up drinking it, but beside that...” he said and went into his study, unlocking the cabinet that held his Srengish liquor. The alcohol had been given to him after he won a drinking competition while consuming said alcohol; because it had the delightful property of dissociating him from his emotions while not having him appear outwardly drunk, he had seemed to drink the rest of the delegation under the table, which, to them, was impressive. It accounted for his success in securing the treaty, which was worth the goddess-awful hangover the next day. “There is one, though, that is good for this situation.”

“I’ve never seen that kind before,” Claude said, intrigued. He reached out for it, so Lorenz passed it over to him and obligingly changed into the pajamas Claude had laid out for him. “It doesn’t smell like anything except alcohol.”

“I’m not sure it is anything besides straight booze,” Lorenz admitted. “I’m not as well-versed in the Srengish tongue as I could be, so missed quite a bit of their explanation of what it is.”

“There’s only one  _ tongue _ I want you familiar with,” Claude said with a wink, which caused Lorenz to shake his head in amusement. “Go on. Get under to our ‘dining room’ and settle yourself. I’ll be in shortly.”

Lorenz took the bottle back from Claude and cautiously, carefully crawled into the space beneath one of his tables that was being used as a ‘room’. He opened the bottle, eyed it critically, then just took a swig straight from the bottle. It burned all the way down, but the taste was smooth and neutral, so he only coughed once from the intensity. He quickly grew accustomed to it, though, and didn’t bother with the intelligent thing of  _ pacing _ . The goal was to get drunk enough to be able to look at his most recent conversation with his parents with a detached eye so he didn’t feel like he had swallowed glass shards. 

Claude crawled in a few minutes later wearing a loose shirt and baggy pants, pushing the tray of food carefully before him. He caught sight of the already nearly half-empty bottle and said, “Whoa, Lorenz, slow down.”

“But I’m not  _ drunk  _ yet,” Lorenz semi-complained. “And I very badly want to be drunk.”

“You know you could have called for me,” Claude said and tugged the bottle out of Lorenz’s loose grip. He capped it and put it on the tray with the rest of their meal, then crawled around to sit beside Lorenz. “I didn’t hear  _ all _ of what was said, but i caught most of it. So, the first thing I want to do is thank you for standing up for me.”

“I love you, Claude,” Lorenz said and leaned down to press a quick kiss to Claude’s temple. “Of course I’d stand up for you.”

Claude’s face promptly flushed what seemed like five shades darker and he fidgeted with the tassels on the tie of his pants. “I love you, too, Lorenz.”

_ Oh. Oh, I said  _ love, Lorenz said and looked to the Srengish liquor bottle.  _ Oh dear. Perhaps I’m more off-balance than I thought. My tolerance isn’t exactly the best and I’ve been actively trying to get drunk. _

“Why don’t we get some food into you, hm?” Claude said and tugged over the tray, taking the covers off of one of the plates. Claude quickly cut the meat into manageable pieces, speared a few pieces along with a couple vegetables, then cupped his hand underneath it to catch any drippings and offered it to Lorenz. Lorenz’s vision went hazy, and he blinked a few times to clear it. He heard his tears hit the fabric, tiny  _ plops _ , but eventually took the offered bite. Claude alternated between feeding himself and Lorenz, which gave Lorenz’s tears plenty of time to escape as he sniffled. He was past the point of  _ caring _ that he was crying or that his face was probably all splotchy or that his nose was running, because what suffused him was a hollow, echoing pain that not even the alcohol could fully dim. 

A thousand things he could have asid,  _ should _ have said, to his parents bounced around in his head, biting comebacks that would have left them reeling--or, at least, left him feeling a little less inept. Had they always ignored his words?  _ Assumed _ that he would simply...comply regardless of what he had said in the past? And, if they expected that  _ now _ , then surely there was a reason for that expectation. Had he really been so weak? So...spineless? He really was worthless, wasn’t he?

It required a small wrestling match that Lorenz won by sheer virtue of being larger and thus possessing a greater reach, but Lorenz eventually retrieved the alcohol from Claude’s guardianship, because he was  _ close _ to not feeling anything, and feeling dead sounded  _ delightful _ when choice snippets of the conversation kept on circling back to him. He couldn’t drag them down to his magic and bury them, because doing that would worry Claude, and Claude was already worried enough. Not that him drinking probably made Claude feel any better or less worried, but it certainly made  _ him _ feel better. Or, rather, very little, and that was good.

“It never hurt before,” Lorenz murmured when Claude managed to retrieve the bottle back from Lorenz. “Why didn’t it hurt before?”

“Because you didn’t know there was anything different or better,” Claude said. “How are you still coherent after downing so much of this?”

“I think my Crest thinks alcohol is poison, or at least slightly poisonous,” Lorenz said. “So it takes  _ a lot _ to put me under. It’s how I won that, you know.”

“Hm?”

“I beat the Srengish delegation in a drinking contest,” Lorenz said. “They gave that to me as a hair-of-the-dog prize.”

“And you’ve been saving it for a  _ special occasion _ like this?”

“Mmhm,” Lorenz agreed. “Do you think that my parents told me the truth? That, to them...everything they did was done for my benefit. All the pain would be worth it so I could be the perfect noble. I could be the kind of man they would be proud of if I...if I just mastered everything. I had to be  _ perfect. _ ”

“Lorenz, no one is perfect.”

“That’s what  _ Almyrans _ think,” Lorenz said. “The highest pursuit of the nobility in Fodlan is  _ perfection _ , according to my family, at least.”

Claude shook his head in mute denial.

“I really should have seen their hypocrisy long before now, though,” Lorenz said. “It’s been there all along, after all. Hey, Claude.”

“Yes?”

“I have a question for you.”

“...what is it?”

“When you were a child, if you told your parents that while they were away the head butler and maid charged others money so they--servants, strangers, victims, whomever--could take their revenge and grievances over them out on you, as a near picture-perfect stand in for your father, would they have believed you?”

“Of course!” Claude said before the  _ implications _ in the statement seemed to sink in. “Wait, you…” Claude trailed off and stared at Lorenz for a moment, then drained about half of what remained in the bottle. He sputtered, coughed, and regarded it with slightly more respect. “This is disgusting. We need to find a way to import it.”

“I’m still in touch with one of the Chancellors--he sent his daughter to Garreg Mach and was relieved and grateful that she enjoys it there--and I’m sure they’d be happy to have a new market for their unique brand of unhealthy coping mechanism.”

Claude chuckled humorlessly.

“Why is my family such  _ garbage? _ ” Lorenz sighed.

“I blame Rhea.”

“What? What does Lady Rhea have anything to do with this?”

“She  _ wrote _ the teachings of Seiros. She put her mother’s heart in Teach’s body. What if this emphasis on Crests and bloodlines and that kind of thing is a way to symbolically keep her siblings alive, to keep the blood of the Nabeteans in the world? I know you said your family kept contact with the Agarthans, but...”

“You really think that might be the case?”

“I can’t know for sure, and even if we could drag her out of retirement in Zanado long enough to talk to us, I doubt she’d give us an honest answer.”

“You really don’t like her, do you?”

“She’s a manipulative bitch.”

“You don’t have much of an alcohol tolerance.”

“That Srengish stuff is  _ strong _ .”

“Delightful, isn’t it?” Lorenz said as he wiped his face free of the tears that just wouldn’t  _ stop. _ “I wish I’d cease  _ leaking _ .”

“No, it’s good for you to cry,” Claude said. “I’m here for you.”

“They didn’t even react when I told them I loved them,” Lorenz said, tiny hics interrupting his words. “If anything, they seemed... _ disappointed _ that I loved them. Am I  _ supposed _ to hate my parents? They were my world, they were all I had. Before I let go of them all, the servants saw the ‘Young Master’ as just a miniature version of my father. They feared my father, so would never dream of retaliating against him, but me? I...I suppose that might be where my disdain or inability to see commonfolk as  _ people _ came from. When the only commoners one is exposed to  _ loathe _ you, you’ll often respond in kind, or find a way to make their hatred sting less.”

“I know you’ve spoken of  _ friends _ , but...did you ever have friends your age?  _ True _ friends?”

Lorenz paused, then shrugged. “Hell if I know. I had people who I’d attend balls and teas and formal events with, but were they my friends, or were they just scared of what my parents might do if they  _ weren’t _ nice to me? I was also a bit of a pompous dick, so I doubt I was  _ likable. _ I still am a pompous dick most of the time, but responsibility and war has tempered it slightly.”

“If you didn’t have friends your age and relied on your parents for social interaction, it’s not surprising that you care about them in spite of all the awful things done to you by them.”

“I’ve been trying to  _ please _ these two people who will  _ never _ be pleased with me. How many opportunities did I miss, how many mistakes did I make because I thought of how they would react to my choices before I considered how  _ I _ wanted to choose? They’ve  _ both _ said I’m worthless. Are they right?”

“No, Lorenz, they’re  _ wrong _ ,” Claude said and wiped away some of Lorenz’s tears with his thumbs, carefully cupping his face. “You’re not worthless. You’re wonderful.”

Lorenz snorted. “ _ There’s _ a first.”

“What?”

“You called me  _ wonderful _ . I’m not. I’m a failure, a shameful excuse for a noble, let alone a  _ man _ . I was awful to you during our time at the Academy and barely better than a nuisance during the war, so why...why do you care for me? With every new horror you learn about me or my family, why do you  _ still _ care enough to, to, to...” Lorenz was silenced by Claude carefully placing his fingertips against Lorenz’s lips, sorrow clear in his eyes. 

Claude took in a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. “I told you already, I’m...my love for you is the sum of hundreds of small things, there’s no one thing I can point at and say, ‘This is why.’ And each new  _ horror _ only makes me amazed that you have survived to be a good person in spite of the best efforts of your family.”

“My father called himself  _ perfect _ , said that he was the greatest among the Gloucesters.”

“Your dad is a dickbag who has such an inflated sense of self-worth that it’s amazing he hasn’t smothered the entire country with his ego,” Claude drawled. “There is nothing  _ perfect _ about him at all.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Think you can manage some more food? It’ll be good to prevent or mitigate a hangover.”

“Okay,” Lorenz said, rubbing at his eyes and hating how  _ young _ he sounded. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Making a pillow fort. Feeding me. Talking to me. Listening to me. Why?”

“Because I want to,” Claude said and offered Lorenz another bite of dinner. “Because I love you. Because you’re precious and hurting and have plenty of emotions and memories that you haven’t dealt with because you needed to prioritize surviving and I want to help.”

“Aha. Okay, I suppose.”

“....you are  _ weird _ when tipsy.”

“It’s just this type of alcohol.”

“Right.”

Eventually they ran out of food, and Claude briefly left the fort to put the tray somewhere it could be easily picked up. As his foot disappeared, a sudden, paralyzing panic seized Lorenz; Claude was leaving. After seeing him so weak and pathetic he was leaving. He’d never come back because he thought he (Lorenz) was disgusting, he was just saying nice things to stall for time and finish what he considered an obligation, but now that he was gone he’d never return. Abject  _ relief _ warred with fear and anger in his heart and Lorenz buried his face in his hands. Why wasn’t the alcohol working?! He wasn’t supposed to be  _ feeling _ things!

He tensed when he heard something returning, and a part of him was absolutely certain that his parents had somehow gotten into his room and saw this ridiculous fort and were going to do  _ something _ to hurt him, but only Claude stuck his head into the ‘room.’ He gave Lorenz what was likely meant to be an encouraging smile then said, “C’mon, follow me.”

It was strange, crawling along the dim, narrow corridors of fabric, but after a short journey they entered into a larger ‘room’ made of a circle of chairs that was strewn with pillows on the ground, a pole holding up the center of the fabric so it didn’t sag in the middle and onto them. 

“C’mere,” Claude said and settled himself on a particularly arranged pile. “Cuddle-time.”

Lorenz carefully made his way to where Claude was reclining and laid down half on Claude and half on the pillows, wrapping his arms around Claude’s waist and resting his head on Claude’s chest so he could hear his heartbeat.

“Hey, Lorenz?”

“Hm?”

“Remember how I told you some of your memories need a dignified burial?”

“Yes.”

“Could you tell me more about what you meant when you said the head butler and maid used to let other people take out their grievances against their father on you?”

“Oh, those memories are so decayed as to be skeletons or ghosts of their former selves,” Lorenz said. “They had to be careful as to where they hit me because nothing could leave a visible mark. That may be why I feel dread each time you touch my butt. No reason for anyone besides myself and my assigned servants to see me fully naked, so it would have been a safe place to strike. I remember that it pleased them if I cried, so I never cried just to spite them. They had to stop when I learned magic because I immolated one of their customers when they were trying to...trying to...”

“Lorenz?”

Lorenz’s mind recoiled from the memory, skittered away from the vague recollections with a determination born of old desperation and pain.

“I’m sorry, I can’t...I can’t quite recall all the circumstances around my first use of the Fire spell, but I remember it killed someone and that’s when they realized they had a true Gloucester viper on their hands. That was the last time they laid hands on me. After that, I’d simply be left alone until my parents came home.” Claude hummed in acknowledgement as he gently stroked Lorenz’s head, neck, and shoulders. Lorenz’s arms tightened slightly and he said, “I’ll protect you, Claude, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Claude said. “I wish…”

“Yes?”

“I wish that I could help you more than this,” Claude whispered, his voice rough. “You’re in pain, but I can’t...I can’t  _ heal _ , and even if I could, white magic can’t heal emotional or mental or spiritual wounds.”

Lorenz squirmed slightly so he was chest-to-chest with Claude and then rested all his weight on Claude, forcing him to lie down and pinning him to the pillow pile. “Claude?”

“Yes?”

“If I didn’t...If you didn’t...you  _ love me _ . I didn’t know what that meant, what that felt like, before you showed me. Now that I know what it feels like, I know what its  _ lack _ feels like, which is why I can stand up to my parents. They don’t...they were my everything for so very long, but they don’t love me. I covered for them, lied for them, killed for them, because I thought I could make them love me, but you can’t...you can’t  _ make _ someone love you, can you? And if they haven’t loved me for over thirty years, there is likely no way that they’re going to start anytime soon, so…”

Lorenz let himself be guided into a gentle kiss, Claude’s fingers weaving through his hair as he did so. The kiss was slightly salty from all the tears that lingered on Lorenz’s lips, but Lorenz found that, in the dim confines of blankets and pillows, it was easier to imagine that nothing could reach him. He was entombed in softness and the scent and taste of Claude, and it was a much nicer grave in which to bury his love for his parents than many others he had dug. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** The spicy stuff: light bondage, fellatio. The rest: mentions of human experimentation, Lorenz's parents.
> 
> As always, a huge _thank you_ to everyone who read, comments, kudos, subscribes, bookmarks, whatever--you interacting with my work gives me warm fuzzies. 
> 
> Finally, FE:3H still does not belong to me, so this is all for fun.

There was something uniquely delightful about being woken by gentle, feather-light touches and kisses, and the whole situation was made  _ adorable _ because Claude was half-singing, half-chanting either a rhyme or song in Almyran. Lorenz could catch some of the words, and he was fairly certain it was a cutesy, almost  _ baby- _ talk like thing, with Claude either lightly touching or kissing a particular part of Lorenz’s body and then exclaiming about how lovely or strong or  _ whatever _ it was and to keep up the good work. 

“Is this an Almyran thing or a you thing?” Lorenz asked sleepily, idly running his hand up and down Claude’s spine, interrupting him.

“It’s something my mom did when I was younger,” Claude admitted. “She told me it was a special Fodlanese good-magic and would help me stay safe and strong throughout the day. I’m pretty sure she was lying, but where’s the harm?”

“You’re worried about the party tonight?” Lorenz asked.

“Your family is dramatic enough to try to use the party as cover for something nefarious,” Claude reluctantly admitted.

“You’re not wrong,” Lorenz agreed. “I’m sorry that they used your presence as justification to throw a celebration meant to help me find a bride. I apologize in advance for all the insensitive comments you’re going to be subjected to.”

“They probably won’t be anything I haven’t heard before,” Claude said and pressed a quick kiss to Lorenz’s lips. “You know, I’m going to have to thank my mom when I see her. She insisted that I pack my most formal clothes and an actual diadem, because, in her words, ‘Fodlanese people love nothing more than spectacle and that means you’ll be dragged to a Formal Dinner Party at  _ some point _ no matter what you do to avoid such.’”

Lorenz chuckled. “Little could she have known that it would be at the home of your family’s greatest nemesis. Will you need assistance when dressing? I know  _ formal _ usually means  _ difficult _ when it comes to clothing, particularly for royalty.”

“You’re allowed to help only if you promise you’ll  _ help _ ,” Claude said. “Because getting any kind of stain out of the fabric of those clothes in particular is labor-intensive and annoying work.”

“Why do you think I would deliberately stain fine clothing?” Lorenz said, torn between confused and mildly insulted. 

Claude just stared at him for a moment before burying his face in Lorenz’s neck and muttering, “I sometimes forget that, unlike me apparently,  _ your _ brain doesn’t go bad places without  _ prompting _ .”

Lorenz was going to push Claude away enough to look at his face and demand an explanation when what Claude meant  _ clicked _ . Lorenz’s face burned and he sputtered, “I’d never ruin royal regalia with...with... _ body fluids _ .”

Claude huffed a laugh into Lorenz’s skin before pulling back and scooting up in the bed to share a pillow with Lorenz. He tugged lightly on a stray strand of Lorenz’s hair and said, “Maybe one day I’ll catch you off guard with your mind in the gutter. But, yes, I would like your help. An extra pair of hands would be welcome as long as you keep your touches innocent.”

“Of course,” Lorenz replied. “If those clothes are similar to what you wore at the summit, I remember you looking...arresting...in them.”

“Arresting? You thought that back at the summit?” Claude semi-repeated, intrigued, a small note of excitement creeping into his voice. 

“You’re an attractive man,” Lorenz mumbled and leaned in slightly. “You call me a vision, but you looked like some deity had descended, cloth of gold and diadem glittering in silver moonlight. It was...striking.”

“I think I remember that!” Claude responded with a grin. “I thought I had just startled you and that your blush was from the wine you’d been drinking. But, you really thought…?”

“You dazzled me,” Lorenz admitted. “It was confusing.”

Claude’s grin widened before he placed a kiss on Lorenz’s forehead, then his cheek, then lingered on his lips. Lorenz tentatively requested to deepen the kiss--the first time he could remember doing so, although maybe there had been that time in the stall?--and Claude voiced a happy moan before yielding to the request, pressing closer, slipping his leg between Lorenz’s and tangling his fingers in Lorenz’s hair. 

Lorenz wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the feel of Claude’s body against his, to the sweet spices in his scent and taste, to the knowledge that Claude, who could have his literal pick of anyone in the world, had chosen  _ him _ , with all his edges and damage--and frankly, he never wanted to grow accustomed to the experience of  _ Claude _ . He wanted to always be discovering something about Claude, no matter how small it might be. 

He wanted to spend the rest of his life discovering Claude.

_ Oh no, _ Lorenz thought as he melted into Claude, butterflies working from his stomach to his lungs.  _ I was serious when I told my parents I would marry Claude if he asked. But, we’ve only been together for  _ days _ , surely that’s not long enough to decide that I want to spend the rest of my life with him, right? _

At the same time, who else would hold him as he cried for the child he once was and do stupid things like make a goddess-forsaken pillow fort to make him feel better, or play hide and seek, or any of the dozens of small things that made Lorenz feel  _ seen _ ? No one else had ever  _ provoked _ him like Claude, had stirred his desire and made him view it with something other than wary distrust. 

Claude gently broke the kiss, and for a long moment they just breathed in time, and Lorenz luxuriated in the  _ lust _ clouding Claude’s eyes, in the small, fond smile Claude wore. 

“You’re getting bolder every day,” Claude murmured, his hand following the contour of Lorenz’s side to come to rest on Lorenz’s hip, Claude’s thumb drawing light circles on his skin. “I like it.”

“You embolden me,” Lorenz responded, his face burning. “I also...I must not say it enough, but I do find you, ah…”

“Yes?”

Lorenz didn’t think he could blush more than he already was, but his face felt even warmer as he muttered, “I find you unbearably sexy.”

Claude made a tiny sound of glee and pulled Lorenz into another kiss that left Lorenz clinging to Claude as heat and arousal curled through him. When Claude finally let him go, an involuntary sound of protest escaped him that made him bury his face in his hands in embarrassment. 

“I swear to the gods, you make me feel like the world’s best kisser with how you react,” Claude semi-teased. “Could you sit up with your back to the headboard?”

“Yes?” Lorenz answered, mildly confused because he didn’t  _ want _ to be so far away from Claude, but Claude never asked for something without there being a secondary purpose. Claude released him and watched as he inched up in the bed so he was sitting supported by his ample pillows and the hardwood of the headboard; he wasn’t sure how he felt about how the blankets tented over his crotch. Claude, naturally, was wearing a delighted, slightly sly smirk. He tugged the blankets down so Lorenz’s erection was visible, pushed himself onto his hands and knees and crawled so he was over Lorenz’s legs, then very carefully straddled Lorenz’s thighs and sat down. 

Lorenz was half-afraid he would pass out from how badly he was blushing, and the muted screaming in his head was part from how flustered he was, how Claude’s erection pressing lengthwise against his own was oddly delightful, and part from how the last time his phallus had been near another person’s genitals, they had cried with pain and despair and cursed him. However, Claude seemed  _ pleased _ until he caught sight of Lorenz’s expression.

“Oh no. Too fast?” Claude asked and made to move, but Lorenz’s hands immediately went to Claude’s hips and pushed down in a pointed, wordless command to  _ stay _ . “I thought this might...get you more acclimated to maybe, one day, in the  _ clearly _ distant future…?”

It was one thing to intellectually know that Claude wanted to have sex with him; it was a whole other thing to physically  _ know _ .

_ Claim him! Mine! All of him! _ The possessive thing in his chest snarled, but all he could think of was how he’d inevitably  _ hurt _ Claude and that was the dead-last thing he wanted to happen ever. Of course he and Claude had giggled over Sylvain’s pamphlet together during the trip to the Manse and it had opened Lorenz’s eyes to a  _ lot _ of things, but he simply...didn't trust himself, not entirely, and not when his first sexual experience had ended so  _ badly _ . Blood always ran true, and his control over his emotions was slipshod at best around Claude. 

“I’m sorry,” Lorenz murmured, but Claude shook his head.

“There's nothing to apologize for,” he said. “I’m pushing, I know. Can you tell me what’s going on in your head right now?”

Lorenz struggled with himself for a long moment before saying, without pauses or breaths, “I like how well we  _ fit _ but I’m terrified I’ll hurt you in spite of my best efforts.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, then sighed and said, “I also...would feel weird about having penetrative sex with you without being married to you.”

“We wouldn’t be  _ having sex _ , though,” Claude said. “But, I understand, fine. May I still do things like this, though, just to get you used to the idea so if we do get married, you’ll be comfortable with the thought of you in me or me in you?”

“No!” Lorenz blurted before he could stop himself, a deep panic born of memories too decayed for him to recall swamping him. “I mean--”

“No, no, that’s a  _ definitive _ no,” Claude said solemnly. “I’ll be more careful about the boundaries I push.”

“No, you misunderstand me,” Lorenz said. “I don’t...I don’t mind you pushing. I appreciate it, actually. But, I...I don’t know  _ why _ , but the thought of someone else...inside me…” 

The memories, or, rather, the absence of them, left only the  _ emotions _ behind and old, residual terror choked Lorenz, making breathing difficult; because, beneath the terror was  _ rage _ , and he didn’t want to poke that  _ at all. _

“Can you...hug me?” Lorenz asked, his voice strained. 

“Absolutely,” Claude said and shifted forward enough to wrap his arms around Lorenz, holding him somehow both tenderly and tightly at the same time. “I love you, Lorenz.”

“I...I chose you, Claude,” Lorenz murmured and clung to him, the unfamiliar and uncomfortable rage slowly slinking back into its grave, settling back amongst the desiccated remnants of memory. “Now and always. So, thank you for consistently choosing me.”

Claude eventually pulled back enough to look at Lorenz, gave him a small smile, and said, “How could I not choose the great Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, though?”

Lorenz chuckled weakly, but Claude’s smile, small though it was, soothed the more ragged edges of his soul. “How could you not, indeed?”

Claude’s kiss was gentle, comforting, a balm to jagged nerves, and it was very rudely interrupted by a knock on his door announcing the arrival of his morning tea.

“Remind me later that night is the better time for intimacy with you,” Claude grumbled and pulled back so Lorenz could actually speak. 

Before he could, Desdemona’s voice drifted through the door: “Do you want me to leave it out here for you to pick up later, Your Grace?”

“No, I should start moving,” Lorenz sighed. “I’m sure there’s still plenty to do to prepare for tonight. Let me put on a robe.”

Claude shifted off his lap and Lorenz grabbed his robe off the clothes rack and slipped it on so he was at least  _ slightly _ decent, then walked to the door and opened it. Desdemona was blushing slightly, and gave him a perhaps overly cheerful smile as he let her in to place the tea tray down on his table and arrange the set for two. Claude was still lounging in the bed, half under the covers. 

“Desdemona?” Claude asked, causing her attention to shift to him. 

Her face promptly colored more, since Claude’s bare torso was still visible and he had a  _ very _ nicely developed upper body, and she replied: “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Did you ever find out for me if you could have scented candles made?”

“Scented candles?” Lorenz repeated to himself, confused.  _ Why would Claude want scented candles? _

“I did, Your Majesty,” Desdemona said and fidgeted with the tea set so she wouldn’t have to look at Claude. “They can be made, yes. How many do you want?”

“Well, the Count will be living with me for the foreseeable future once we leave, and I don’t know how well Fodlanese roses will take in Almyran soil, so I want as many as possible so he can light them when he feels homesick.”

Desdemona’s expression turned  _ soft _ and Lorenz’s heart fluttered at the sheer consideration in the request. 

“We’ll make as many as feasible,” she said resolutely. “I’ll be bringing your breakfast here, since it’ll just be easier given how many parts are already moving to prepare the Manse for its first party in centuries. Now, I’ll leave you to your tea, m’lords.”

As she was leaving, Desdemona lightly nudged Lorenz with her shoulder and murmured, “You are one lucky son of a bitch, you know that, right? Goddess, he’s so hot, it’s not fair. Maybe I should go to Almyra with you and find me a strapping husband like him.”

Lorenz coughed to hide a laugh, which earned him a snort from Desdemona as she left, closing the door behind her pointedly.

“What did I miss?” Claude asked from the bed, still lounging indolently. 

“Nothing of import,” Lorenz responded. “I will bring the tea to the bed, don’t bother getting up.”

“If you say so,” Claude replied and stretched, making endearing growly noises as he did so. 

Lorenz brought the tray over, set it on the bedside table, and climbed back onto the bed; before he could reach for the tray, Claude had pushed him back against the headboard, plunked himself between Lorenz’s legs, his back to Lorenz’s chest, then reached over and brought the tea tray to them. 

Lorenz sighed in exasperated affection and pressed a kiss to Claude’s cheek as Claude gave him an insolent grin. Claude made them each a cup of tea, then handed Lorenz his, which Lorenz accepted with a kiss and murmured thank you. For some reason, this caused Claude to dissolve into giggles.

“Claude?”

“It just feels so... _ domestic _ ,” Claude laughed. “Sitting in bed with you acting as my pillow, drinking tea and greeting the day together. I feel...at peace, all things considered.”

“I understand,” Lorenz said with a soft smile.

For a long moment, they sipped their tea in silence, Lorenz’s free hand lightly stroking Claude’s arm as Claude’s fingers traced absentminded circles on Lorenz’s thigh.

“Lorenz, can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” Lorenz said. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever find love,” Claude admitted, snuggling back into Lorenz’s body and sipping his tea. “At least, not  _ real _ love like my parents. It’s just...no one in Almyra seemed to be able to see beyond my being half-Fodlanese. I thought I’d be doomed to a political marriage in spite of my parents’ assurances that they would let me marry for love, since it would be hypocritical of them to do otherwise. I’d marry someone who would be able to see me as  _ human, _ and maybe one day they would come to see me as a man, then as Khalid. But, then I came to Fodlan and...I started to hope that I might find love after all.”

Lorenz shook his head in bewilderment. “You may be devilishly handsome, but you are no demon. Almyra’s loss is my gain.”

Claude “Awww”-ed and lightly pinched Lorenz’s cheek affectionately. “You’re adorable.”

“And you’re wonderful. I’m honored you chose to find love with  _ me. _ ”

Claude actually looked startled-shy and laughed uncomfortably. 

“Dare I ask what you think of 15-year-old Lorenz’s poetry?” Lorenz eventually steeled himself enough to ask. 

“Oh, so  _ that’s _ what the numbers were!” Claude said. “ _ Dates _ . Well, your handwriting has improved with age. As for technique and style and whatnot, I’m not a  _ poet _ myself, so don’t consider myself qualified to comment.”

“Surely you have some  _ thoughts _ after working so hard.”

“I mean, I do, yeah, but…”

“But?”

Claude sighed. “They all make me sad for different reasons. You have all these  _ feelings _ in you and it bled through that your family routinely treated your thoughts and emotions as if they were nothing more than troublesome  _ inconveniences.  _ It was easy to tell you genuinely loved your mother and father and wanted to make them proud so much and so badly that my heart  _ ached _ , which is why I don’t think you’re anywhere near finished processing what they tried to do to you.”

“Yes, well,” Lorenz hedged. “I suppose it’s all a matter of how fast the bureaucracy at the Church moves. I hope they don’t sentence my parents to death, but given the evidence I’m going to hand over…”

“Well, that likely won’t be for a few days, right?” Claude said. “But, yeah. Your poetry, even inexpert, was evocative and fascinating and I think...I understand pre-war Lorenz a little better now and appreciate you even more than I already do. I’ve missed you reading your book to me these past few nights, however. Do you think you could read some to me now while we finish the tea and wait for breakfast?”

“I think the book is still in my bags,” Lorenz said. 

“I’ll get it, stay here,” Claude said and moved the tray so he wouldn’t tip it over and slid out of the bed, padding over to where Lorenz’s bags were stored, still completely naked. 

Lorenz had spent many an hour obsessing over his own appearance for a variety of reasons, but he had never felt his body to be particularly beautiful--flawless, certainly, and as close to perfect as he could get, but not  _ beautiful _ . So, it was an odd feeling, to appreciate the way Claude’s muscles moved beneath his skin and how the tattoo on his shoulder distorted as Claude moved his arm; to delight in the way the morning sunlight tangled in his luscious hair and traced the curve of his back and glutes; to find Claude’s blush and shy smile when he (Claude) caught him (Lorenz) staring seductive. He had touched all of Claude, but he hadn’t  _ tasted _ all of him yet, and he very badly wanted to find out how Claude’s reactions would differ between kisses and touches. The question was, how to properly broach the idea with Claude?

“Ah, here we are,” Claude said and held up the book triumphantly. “Are we still in the part of the story you know inside out?”

“Yes,” Lorenz said. “Nothing that I’ve read has been new to me so far. Could you at least put on pants so my maids don’t die of embarrassment when they come to deliver breakfast?”

Claude snorted, but obliged, picking up a pair of  _ Lorenz’s _ sleep-pants and stepping into them before rejoining him on the bed with book in hand. The pants  _ barely  _ fit him, since his thighs were more muscular than Lorenz’s, so they clung to his body sinfully from his waist to his knee before becoming too loose and long.

Lorenz wasn’t sure how he felt about Claude wearing his clothes, but decided it wasn’t something worth examining, taking the book from Claude and opening to the page he had left off the night before they had arrived at the Manse as Claude re-settled himself between Lorenz’s legs and made two new cups of tea, one for each of them. 

Lorenz alternated between sipping his tea and running his fingers through Claude’s hair as he read, and he would have sworn again that he heard Claude purring--although, perhaps, he was mistaking  _ snores _ for  _ purrs _ , since Claude woke himself up with a start when a rather prodigious snore escaped him. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Claude said and rubbed his eyes rather adorably. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep when listening to your story.”

“Have you not been sleeping well?” Lorenz asked, setting the book aside as concern bloomed in his chest. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you under my roof.”

Claude’s face very slowly flushed and he eventually groaned, “My libido won’t  _ shut up _ and keeps waking me up, that’s all!”

Lorenz blinked, then his face flushed as well and he said, “I see. I...I don’t think an apology is appropriate?”

“No, don’t apologize for being sexy,” Claude said as he stretched. 

Lorenz nudged the tea tray out of the way of Claude’s stretch and murmured, “I won’t but...is it just that? You vanished for a while one of the days you were here, did you come across my father and was he...inappropriate?”

Claude blinked, then smiled wryly. “No, your household followed your orders, so while I  _ saw _ him, we never interacted directly.”

“Then what else is bothering you besides how devastatingly attractive I am?”

Calude’s smile brightened with genuine amusement for the briefest moment before dimming. “Ah, well. I’m...a bit nosy. My dad always said that if I didn’t learn to keep from sticking my nose in things, I’d eventually end up losing it. I, er...”

“Claude, I can’t think of anything you could have done that would make me angry with you. I told you that the Manse is fully available for your exploration. Please, speak freely.”

“Even before you mentioned them during your argument with your parents, I found the Manse’s dungeon. It clearly hasn’t been used in years, but…” Claude eventually admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “In my exploration I found a few rather well-hidden rooms and passages that even the servants seemed unaware of and found some, ah...well, let’s just say that when you hand over the evidence to the Church, I found some more.”

Lorenz was impressed. “You found my mother’s research laboratory?”

“Wait, that belonged to your  _ mother _ , not your  _ father? _ ”

“Oh, yes,” Lorenz said. “Mother might not have given you the best impression of her intellect, since she very badly wants a daughter-in-law and grandchildren because it would give her something to focus on besides her husband’s lack of affection for her, but she’s the master of poisoncraft in our family, and the reason why she was no longer able to bear children after me was because she had been performing experiments on herself to attempt to increase her fertility, her chances of bearing a son, and the chances of that son having a  _ major _ Crest. So, I am at the same time her greatest success and most costly failure.”

Claude stared at him for a  _ long _ moment, then said, “There were signs of recent experimentation.”

“Mother still is perfecting her poisons and whatnot on the rats our household catches.”

“ _ Human _ experimentation.”

Lorenz frowned sharply at that. “Perhaps I  _ have _ been away from my home territory for too long. Well, her experimentation days are over once she’s arrested, but I should go through her records to find out who amongst my household have been suffering because of her.”

“Her cipher was easy to break,” Claude said flippantly. “Simple substitution with writing going bottom-to-top and right-to-left. She’s still doing experiments on fertility.”

Lorenz sighed. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re...less upset than I thought you’d be.”

“This will not be the  _ first _ time I’ve had to rotate out or compensate the maid assigned to my mother,” Lorenz said. “It will also not be the first time I had a discussion with my mother over how such experimentation is unethical and unacceptable. But, I’m sure you can tell by now that my parents don’t put much stock in what I say or ask of them. Unless you were concerned that I’d be upset about your snooping? I told you, the Manse is yours to roam. I more-or-less gave you permission to snoop.”

Claude smiled faintly and relaxed back into Lorenz’s loose embrace. “I’m sorry, could you go back a few chapters and start reading again? It keeps my mind off how hungry I am...in more than one way, if you get my drift.”

Lorenz caught Claude’s salacious wink and cleared his throat in embarrassment. “I’d rather not have my staff walk in while we are being...intimate.”

“Exactly. So, start reading again? Please?”

“Very well.”

Lorenz was just finishing a chapter when there was a polite knock and a pair of maids entered with a rather heavily-laden breakfast tray. Lorenz was baffled at why there was more food present than normal for his normal breakfasts, but decided that they may have just accidentally made too much, or perhaps were going to be too busy to make any kind of substantial lunch. Lorenz nudged Claude out from between his legs and took the tea tray over to the cart and placed it down once there was space clear. He stood by the cart until the table was ready and thanked the maids as they all gave him and Claude respectful bows.

“These are all good foods for your, ah,  _ vitality _ and virility,” one of the maids whispered to Lorenz before leaving with her compatriots, the door closing quietly behind them.

Lorenz stared at the door, dumbstruck.

“Lorenz?” Claude asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, my household approves of you,” Lorenz said, shaking his head slightly. “And it seems as if my parents are not the only ones interested in my sex life.”

Claude gave the breakfast food a  _ suspicious _ look. “It looks normal.”

“I trust Yorik to not try to poison me,” Lorenz said. “Does your earring say anything is tainted?”

“No,” Claude confirmed. “I’m guessing they just added some old wives’ tales seasonings and whatnot.”

“Likely,” Lorenz agreed as he took a seat; Claude promptly arranged himself in Lorenz’s lap once Lorenz was comfortably situated. “Claude.”

Claude nuzzled Lorenz’s neck and growled affectionately before picking up the plate of food and sharing it between them. When Claude put the now-cleaned plate back on the table, Lorenz spoke up: “Claude?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you...do things like this?” Lorenz asked, gesturing to their position and the now polished plates of breakfast foods.

“There’s no compelling reason  _ not _ to,” Claude said with a shrug. “It makes me happy to do it, you seem to enjoy it, and it’s not hurting anyone or anything. I like being close to you. Being able to do such things is…I guess it’s another way of saying  _ I love you _ . I like your smile as much as you enjoy mine, and even if your lips aren’t showing the expression, your eyes smile and it makes me feel warm and needed.”

“Claude,” Lorenz said, and ran hand up Claude’s arm to lightly cup his head. “I don’t say it enough, but...thank you. You are more than I deserve.”

“No, I am everything you deserve,” Claude said. “A part of this might also be selfish, because I’m not being  _ watched _ and judged for everything I do, so I’m enjoying being...juvenile for a little.”

Lorenz tilted his head in thought for a and idly ran his hand along Claude’s arm, which eventually prompted Claude to say, “You know, my dick’s a little farther down and I’ve been aching for your touch all morning and I bet that no one will come to collect breakfast until you ring your bell. Probably want you to  _ indulge _ just to keep you out of their hair while they prepare.”

Lorenz snorted. “You’re probably not wrong. But, I remember that they were going to hang up the painting, and I want to see it before it is officially revealed at the party.”

“It’s very nice,” Claude assured him, a flash of wistful disappointment crossing his face briefly. “And I suppose it wouldn’t be good for you to be surprised by it during the reveal…”

“Claude.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not…It’s not that I don’t  _ want _ to touch you, it’s that--” Lorenz sighed. “I was taught my desire was something shameful and should be controlled and suppressed. So, please know that you  _ do _ affect me deeply, but--”

Claude pressed his fingers delicately to Lorenz’s lips, stopping him from speaking, a very serious look in his eyes. 

“Okay, so. Listen. I  _ want _ to make love with you, but it’s not a  _ need _ . I  _ want _ to find out what it takes to push you out of your head, but it’s not a  _ need _ . I  _ want _ your hands on my body and mine on yours, but it’s not a  _ need _ . So, you can say, ‘I’m not in the mood’ or ‘Not now’ or just ‘No’ when I make passes at you and try to initiate intimacy and I’ll back off. You’ve done it before, don’t feel like you have to stop now that you said  _ love _ . Don’t ever feel the need to explain yourself and don’t feel bad if I’m, ah,  _ needy _ and you don’t feel up to doing anything. My hands work just fine, you know. I’m...damn, but I’m willing to wait for you to come to terms with your desire not being  _ bad _ or  _ wrong _ or  _ shameful _ , because each time you give in to it I’m left breathless _. _ I’m weirdly happy with even just kisses and hugs and holding hands and waking up next to you and falling asleep in your arms.”

“But, I don’t want you to be giving up more than you’re gaining in return.”

“You saying no doesn’t make me love you less,” Claude said firmly, never letting go of eye contact. “It makes me look forward even more to the times you say  _ yes _ .”

Lorenz felt strangely  _ dizzy _ , even though he knew he was breathing fairly easily. 

“Lorenz? What’s wrong?” Claude said, concern blooming in his eyes and voice.

“I don’t know,” Lorenz said, his body feeling almost unbearably hot in spite of how he was only wearing a robe and Claude. 

Claude’s eyes narrowed slightly and he asked, “Did your parents ever let you say no when you were a kid?”

“Of course. I needed to grow up to be a strong, noble man capable of standing up for his principles. Being able to say no with conviction and stand by that no was important.”

“Yeah, but how’d they make you feel  _ after _ you said no?”

Lorenz tried to look away, but Claude caught his face in a gentle grip and brought his gaze back. “Exactly. You could say no and they would accept the no, but they’d make you feel like pond scum for saying it and standing by it.”

Lorenz swallowed hard.  _ I must have been an exceptionally good person in my previous life to have Claude choose me. _

“And anyway, I do catch you staring sometimes, so I  _ know _ you want me and it’s an  _ experience _ ,” Claude said with a wink. “You feel things very deeply.”

Lorenz cleared his throat and said, “Ah, yes. I was meaning to ask...”

“Lorenz?” Claude prompted when Lorenz hesitated too long.

Lorenz was silent for a moment longer, then said, “So, I am...not a particular connoisseur of romance novels, but have read a few in my time. I remember reading one scene and being...intrigued.”

“Oh? What caught the great Lorenz Hellman Gloucester’s interest?” Claude asked, tilting his head slightly. 

“So, there was an intimate scene where one person licked melted chocolate off the other,” Lorenz said. “I have chocolate and can melt it with my fire spell. Might I do that to you?”

Claude visibly swallowed, his eyes widening slightly. “Um. Yes. Please.”

“I’ll clean you off afterwards so you’re not sticky, I promise.”

“Oh, that was the  _ last _ thing on my mind.”

“I’ll also test the temperature on myself first to make sure that I don’t burn you,” Lorenz continued. “With that in mind...it’s really okay for me to do that?”

“Yes, yes,  _ please _ ,” Claude said, bouncing slightly with enthusiasm. “Not now, it’s too early for chocolate and you just ate. Maybe later?”

Lorenz nodded. “Later. I promise.”

“Well, then. Let’s go see Ignatz’s painting and check up on the others. Do you think you’ll get any work done today?”

“Probably not,” Lorenz admitted. “But, we have also been working fairly hard these past few days, so perhaps it would be good to take a break.”

“Exactly, everyone needs a day to unwind,” Claude said, then stood and stretched. He looked both ridiculous and adorable, given how much extra cloth bunched at his feet due to wearing Lorenz’s pants. “Probably a stupid question, but have you always lived in this suite? I didn’t really see any sign of kid-Lorenz anywhere when I was exploring.”

“Ah, no, this was once a guest suite that I repurposed for myself,” Lorenz said. “My parents’ wing is technically the Count’s Suite, and I should be rightfully occupying it, but I didn’t want it, so let my parents stay. My childhood room is part of that suite. I...do not have particularly fond memories of it. I think it’s now used as a walk-in closet for my mother.”

Claude stared, then sighed heavily. “And I doubt they’d have made any keepsakes for your major life accomplishments. I can see adult-Lorenz everywhere, I just wish...is your poetry the only thing you have of your childhood?”

“I have nothing,” Lorenz said with a small, sad smile. “I started to write poetry when I was around seven. Everything from when I was seven to fourteen was burned when my father found out I was doing something so...pointless. Oddly enough, he encouraged me to keep a diary, which is what he thinks my poetry notebooks are. That I have them in the cipher I do only encouraged that belief, and he was never motivated to break my cipher, so...”

Claude shook his head and stalked over to his bags, muttering darkly in Almyran the entire time. Lorenz sighed quietly, then stood himself. He rang the bell for his servants to pick up their breakfast, then changed into a cream-colored, long-sleeve shirt, a knee-length, dark blue tunic with red floral embroidery around the hems, and black leggings.

“How the hell are we going to transport your wardrobe?” Claude mused.

“I was planning on commissioning a seamstress of your choice to make me a new set of clothes more suited for Almyra and its weather upon arriving and only taking enough to last me ten days or so,” Lorenz said as he fought his boots on. 

“On the one hand--yay because most of the clothing is very flowing so it will keep the sight of your majestic form partly concealed and special for me,” Claude said as he changed into the previous day’s clothes--he hadn’t gotten them dirty, after all and they’d be changing for the party anyway. “Boo because I  _ need _ you to wear tight clothes because your pants make your ass and, ah,  _ package _ look quite delightful and I didn’t appreciate how broad your shoulders were before you spent some time not wearing armor.”

Lorenz felt his face flush and he muttered, “You’re awful.”

Claude chuckled and offered his arm to Lorenz once he got his boots on. “Let’s go see Ignatz’s final product, yeah?”

“Indeed,” Lorenz agreed and opened the door to find one of his maids had just moved to knock on the door, so they ended up knocking on his chest instead.

The woman made a horrified  _ meep _ as her face went bright red. She recoiled away and into a deep curtsey as she said, “Your Grace! I’m sorry--”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Lorenz said. “Thank you for cleaning up our breakfast.”

“Does anything else need cleaning?” another maid asked, not quite looking at either of them. 

“Not as of the moment, but I will certainly be contacting you later,” Lorenz said, amusement lacing his voice. “Thank you for your hard work and concern.”

They all curtseyed as Lorenz and Claude made their way out. Once they had walked down the hall arm-in-arm in silence for a little and turned a corner, Claude broke out into snickers, then full laughter, and Lorenz couldn’t help but laugh softly as well.

“I was half  _ joking _ when I said they wanted you to busy yourself with me to keep you out of their hair,” Claude said. “I suppose I am rather obvious with my desire for you and I don’t think you realize how you  _ look _ at me.”

“Oh?” Lorenz asked, curious. “I’ve been fairly focused these past few days and aside from you sitting in my lap I don’t think we’ve been too...explicit?”

Claude smiled faintly and shook his head. “Well, they know we share a bed and that is probably more than enough for them to draw the conclusion that we’re sexually intimate.”

Lorenz rubbed his cheeks as they heated and he sighed. “Well, they like you and I suppose that is the important part. I still should tell Portia to send out feelers as to whom might be willing to travel to Almyra with me. I probably will take only three servants.”

“Three servants and four guards? You travel light for an important dignitary,” Claude said. “You wouldn't  _ believe _ the argument I had with about eight different people over allowing me to travel with a  _ small _ diplomatic corps. How I managed to convince them that I could travel in Fodlan with just one escort is still a mystery to me. I think they’re half hoping that I get myself killed.”

“Well, won’t they be disappointed to have you return both perfectly healthy and with a significant other?” Lorenz drawled. 

“So they will,” Claude confirmed with a smirk.

It was a relatively short walk to the hall where the portraits of all previous Count Gloucesters. Lorenz wasn’t entirely sure where they found the  _ frame _ for his portrait, but he also assumed that they likely had such things lying around because he was overdue for his portrait as it was. Ignatz was supervising as two of his manservants were helping to properly place the portrait.

“Ah, good of you to arrive now,” Ignatz said, giving Claude and Lorenz a quick smile when Claude hailed him. “We were just about to cover the painting for a reveal during the party. I’ve been assured that you’ll love it and your parents will hate it by multiple people, but perhaps it’s best you’re not surprised. Well? What do you think?”

Lorenz stopped in front of the painting as one of his staff took a cue from Ignatz and let the sheet that he was securing fall away. 

All of the other portraits were very cold and dark, done in the ‘official’ study, with its dark paneling and relics and trophies, the weight of centuries of secrets in the decor, the expressions on the Counts ranging the full spectrum of  _ neutral _ . Ignatz’s painting...wasn’t that at all. It was as if he had frozen a moment from the past two days in time. 

Lorenz sat in one of the wicker chairs of the solarium, a book with a piece of paper flattened out on it held in one hand, a quill held in the other. He was leaning off-center, bracing his elbow against the chair’s arm as the ankle from one leg rested delicately on the knee of the opposite. It seemed like he was mid-conversation, his gaze focused not on the viewer, but on someone just out of sight of the image. In the painting he looked...happy, and that was strangely disorienting.

The background was lush and alive with the solarium’s greenery and the valley that the Gloucester manse existed in, and it took Lorenz a long moment to realize that the stained glass didn’t depict a scene from Seiros’ teachings but rather a moment from their climactic battle against Nemesis and his puppet Ten Elites and the remnants of the Agarthans: Claude had been very badly injured, but Marianne was too far away for her healing magic to reach Claude, as she was busy with controlling the Elite Lamine with her Silences, since Bolting was a  _ frustrating _ spell when leveraged against them. It was the first time Tempest had demonstrated  _ trust _ towards him (Lorenz), since the wyvern had bent down and made a barely-conscious Claude available to Lorenz’s touch and healing spell. It had been in the middle of a large, chaotic battlefield, so Lorenz was astonished Ignatz had noticed that, since he certainly hadn’t mentioned it to the artist. 

“I’m pretty sure I yelled at you for getting hit so badly by the puppet Riegan even as I healed you,” Lorenz mused and looked to Claude. 

Claude snorted. “Honestly, I don’t really remember. I was flummoxed that  _ you _ were the one healing me and that you used your more expensive healing spell on me, since I felt all the wounds close and the pain vanish in an instant.” Claude blinked, then laughed. “Oh, damn.”

“Claude?”

“I thought I had died and that was why there was no pain. I was...both relieved and annoyed that you had followed me to the afterlife, and that was when it really dawned on me that I wouldn’t mind a  _ forever _ with you. After surviving that battle, I knew I’d have to go back to Almyra after leaving Fodlan in Teach’s hands, but it wasn’t  _ them _ that I wanted to take back with me. It was  _ you _ , and that was...baffling. I didn’t fully understand why I could no longer imagine a life without  _ you. _ I had already come to grips with finding you sinfully attractive, but after that event, I started to ponder how I should introduce you to my mother knowing her history with the Gloucesters and that told me that my heart, head, and body were all working on different wavelengths. So, if I was a bit...distant...after the defeat of Nemesis, it was because I was trying to reconcile myself to the fact that what I felt for you ran far deeper than anticipated.”

“Cladue,” Lorenz murmured, his face flushing. “You...that long? And now, even after  _ years _ …?”

“My heart knows what it wants and is fairly stubborn about it all,” Claude said with a lop-sided smile. “Seeing you again after time and distance...I half thought that I had built up an ideal Lorenz in my head, but I suppose that because irritation mellowed and morphed into affection, I remembered you with surprising clarity and honesty.”

There was really no good way to respond to those admissions except to kiss Claude, who leaned into the contact as he squeezed Lorenz’s fingers gently. 

“I am far luckier than I deserve, you having chosen me,” Lorenz murmured when he pulled back, and brought Claude’s hand up for a quick kiss as well. Claude beamed at him, and Lorenz looked to Ignatz, since he was sure the other man was anxious for Lorenz’s response; however, Ignatz was already smiling, his face tomato-red. 

“You noticed I changed the background,” Ignatz said.

“Of course,” Lorenz said. “Is that...your way of incorporating my relationship with Claude and including him as a ‘prop’ without having painted him actually lounging in my lap?”

Lorenz hadn’t thought it was possible for Ignatz to blush more, but his face became marginally redder. “Ah, yes. I couldn’t...I couldn’t  _ not _ include Claude, and I have been meaning to paint that scene for  _ years _ now, but it all happened so fast that I remembered impressions more than reality, so...stained glass, which could suggest without going into detail seemed a good medium for that scene.”

“Well, I am proud to have a genuine Victor painting as my official portrait,” Lorenz said. “It stands out in all the best ways, much as I do. So, thank you, Ignatz, from the bottom of my heart. Are you sure you want to decline compensation? I have the funds.”

“I know you do, but, take this as a gift,” Ignatz said. “You have some exquisite and rare artwork by venerable artists yourself, you know, so I might also be lucky to be hung in such halls filled with such masterpieces!”

“If you say so,” Lorenz said. “But, do cover that for now. A public reveal at the party will keep my parents from being able to  _ do _ anything. And everyone is right--they’re going to hate it. Too bad for them.”

Claude snickered slightly at that.

Lorenz waited until the two servants finished concealing the painting, then walked over to it and trapped the cloth so if anyone tried to forcibly yank it down without diffusing the trap, the equivalent of a Ragnarok spell would go off in their faces.

“I’ve never seen that spell array before,” Ignatz commented, and Claude carried an equally intrigued expression.

“That’s because it’s technically illegal,” Lorenz admitted. “I have placed a spell trap on this so if anyone tries to pull it off  _ forcibly _ ...well, they’ll regret it. It won’t react to light tugs or accidental pulls, only ones with deliberate force, so I’m not worried about it accidentally going off. Please keep this to yourself.” Everyone nodded in agreement, so Lorenz did so as well in acceptance. “By the way, I am long overdue in showing Khalid our rose garden. If I am needed, we will be there, but I imagine I will get yelled at for being underfoot if I do anything else.”

“Of course, Yer Grace,” one of the manservants said and both bowed. Lorenz was going to reluctantly offer for Ignatz to come along, but Ignatz had somehow managed to vanish.

_ I suppose that’s his Assassin training coming in handy, _ Lorenz thought. “Well, then. Shall we, my love?” Lorenz asked, looking to Claude.

“Give me the personal tour of the Gloucester Rose Garden,” Claude said and squeezed Lorenz’s fingers gently. 

As they walked through the main building, Lorenz could only shake his head at how  _ busy _ everything was. 

_ I don’t think our Manse has seen so much activity ever. Probably the last time there was this level of activity was when my parents were wed.  _

That thought prompted him to look to Claude, who seemed to be enjoying the bustle. 

_ What are Almyran wedding customs? Would we have a Fodlanese style wedding or an Almyran one, or one that blends the two? Perhaps we could convince the Professor to officiate? They are the head of the Church of Seiros, so-- _

Lorenz forcibly diverted that path of thought because it was  _ far _ too early to be thinking about marriage as seriously as he was. At the same time, what was the likelihood of finding a wife in Almyra when Claude, who  _ looks _ Almyran, was despised? No one would see him (Lorenz) as anything other than a demon. 

_ Propose now! _ The possessive thing growled.  _ It will be harder for him to leave that way. _

Lorenz very slightly shook his head to dislodge the thought.  _ No, that’s manipulative and I don’t even have an appropriate ring. How would I propose anyway? What if I make some stupid mistake because I don’t know the typical Almyran customs and-- _

“Copper for your thoughts.”

Claude’s voice startled him enough that he reflexively said, “I want to marry you.”

Claude  _ stared _ at him as his face slowly colored. The silence that stretched out as they walked grew increasingly awkward before Claude said, “You’re not laughing.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because you’re--wait, you’re not joking?”

“Ah, no. No. I’m not joking. I’m…” Lorenz rubbed his face with his free hand as he felt his own face heat. “I’m serious. But, we’ve only been together for...a week? Less? Surely that can’t be long enough to be so certain that I want to share my life with you. I haven’t--I haven’t even met your parents yet.”

“And you really should,” Claude agreed. “I’m still working on how to best introduce you to my mother. Because you  _ really _ do look like your father--particularly when he was younger and had longer hair, and that’s how my mom will remember him.”

Lorenz hummed as they left the main building for the grounds. Even the outside was bustling as people prepared for the soiree, but once they entered the rose gardens, it felt like a  _ hush _ fell, all the noise of the Manse fading away.

“For all that not many people come here, our gardens are actually larger than the main building,” Lorenz said, letting go of Claude’s hand only so he could wrap his arm around Claude’s shoulders and pull him close. “Did you explore the gardens when you went wandering?”

“No,” Claude admitted and rested his hand on Lorenz’s opposite hip, leaning into his (Lorenz’s) body. “I was more interested in finding traces of little-Lorenz, so stuck to the main building. All I found was that one family portrait.”

“And that’s not exactly much,” Lorenz said with a wry smile. “Well, you won’t find any traces of my childhood self here, either, but if I had time to myself, I spent it here or with Shadow.”

The Gloucester Gardens had flower species from all over Fodlan, carefully and meticulously curated and tended to, although nothing was as grand as the rose hedge maze that sat at the middle of the gardens. The roses came in all colors and breeds, and Lorenz confidently maneuvered them through the maze, albeit at a very leisurely pace. It wasn’t the time of year for roses, but there nevertheless always managed to be a few in bloom at any one time. 

One of their yellow rose bushes hosted a few blooms, so Lorenz let go of Claude, took a knife out of the special compartment in his boot, and carefully cut away one. He meticulously dethorned it, then extended it to Claude. “For you. You...you are my joy, my delight, after all.”

Claude’s expression softened and he took it from Lorenz gently and held it close almost reverently before tucking it so the head just poked out of the top of his waist-sash. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Lorenz said and leaned down for a quick, tender kiss. 

They reached the middle of the maze with little effort, and Claude whistled, impressed. The pride of the Gloucester Gardens, and part of their House Seal, were the red roses. The bushes had been, according to family lore, planted by the original Count Gloucester. 

“They’re beautiful,” Claude said. 

“Aren’t they?” Lorenz agreed and led Claude to a table that was situated in the midst of the bushes, taking a seat. Claude, predictably, delicately alighted on Lorenz’s lap, then pulled him into a leisurely kiss. Lorenz ran his hands along Claude’s thigh and back as Claude threaded his fingers through Lorenz’s hair, kissing him until Lorenz wasn’t sure he remembered how to breathe without Claude’ guidance.

_ Goddess, _ Lorenz thought, dazed as he struggled to catch his breath once Claude released him. 

“I love you, Lorenz,” Claude whispered before leaning into Lorenz’s body and just  _ hugging _ him. Lorenz nuzzled Claude’s neck and hugged him back, reveling in the feeling of Claude in his arms, in the  _ peace _ he felt around Claude.

“We haven’t practiced my Almyran in a few days, so perhaps we can review some for a while?” Lorenz asked in a murmur.

“Sure.”

They were reviewing the numbers and counting when Portia found them. 

“Good morning, Count, Your Majesty” she greeted and gave them the degree of curtsey due to people of near-equal rank, which made Lorenz smile and nudge Claude off his lap to stand. 

“Good morning, Countess. What brings you here? Has something occurred?”

“Oh no. I simply wanted to confirm with you a couple of logistics for the soiree tonight,” Portia said. “Please sit back down, since it might take some time.”

Lorenz made to sit back down, but Claude was already lounging in the seat; when he went to pull over another chair, Claude grabbed his hand and tugged him down into sitting on  _ his _ lap. Lorenz sighed softly, pressed a kiss to Claude’s forehead, then turned his attention to Portia, whose face was slightly flushed as she badly bit back a smile. 

Lorenz wasn’t  _ familiar _ with organizing parties, so it was interesting to see all the concerns and final approvals that Portia needed from him; about halfway through the conversation, Claude accused him of having a bony ass, so they switched positions, Claude once again happily curling up in his lap; Portia couldn’t restrain a cascade of laughter at that, and it took a few minutes to get back on track. However, once all the final details were ironed out, Lorenz said: “Did you choose your dress?”

Portia’s smirk was  _ malignant _ . “I did, yes, and it’s being hemmed for my height.”

“That’s good,” Lorenz said, curious but willing to be surprised later, so didn’t press. “Ah, right. Would you mind coming to my room? I have something to give you. House Gloucester has two signet rings--one for the Count, one for the Countess. I want to give you the Countess one so we can officially announce your ascension at the soiree. Ah, correct me if I’m wrong, but you are unmarried, right?”

She gestured to her face with a slightly bitter smile. “This made it hard to find a beau as a commoner.”

“Well, if you choose to marry, it’s traditional to use our signet rings also as engagement rings, so I will leave my signet in your care when I leave for Almyra. Know that you are under  _ no _ pressure to marry or have children, though. ”

“Thank you,” Portia said with a small smile and stood. “I spoke with Margravine Edmund and Lady Goneril and I think...I think I’ll be okay. But do know that I plan to write you often.”

“I look forward to your letters,” Lorenz said and nudged Claude off his lap before standing as well. He led them all out of the maze, and conversation drifted among a variety of topics as they walked, Claude making Portia crack up on multiple occasions. 

The main building was even busier than when he had left it, and they actually had to take some of the secret passages Lorenz knew in order to avoid being underfoot.

Once they arrived at Lorenz’s suite, it was easy to find the Countess signet ring, and he held it out for Portia to examine. She picked it up and cautiously slipped it on her right hand’s ring finger, examining it. “It...fits? How?”

“I think the rings are enchanted to fit whomever wears them,” Lorenz said. “Unlike in most families, there is no special ceremony for ascension, so with that you are now Countess Gloucester. Congratulations and welcome back to the family.”

“Really? For a family so obsessed with tradition, there’s no ceremony?” Portia asked, incredulous.

“Well, if I’m being honest, the ceremony is usually a funeral for the previous Count and Countess,” Lorenz said. “However, as I am trying very hard to not be a typical Gloucester and I’m sure you don’t want to continue that particular tradition…”

“No, no,” Portia said. “No death.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Lorenz agreed with a wry smile. “Please do reach out to any of the current Heads of House amongst former-Kingdom and former-Empire nobles. I am personally friends with them, so if you mention you’re my sister, they’ll likely be more than pleased to assist. Do you need me to help with anything or is it better if I just stay here?”

“Stay here,” Portia said. “If we need you, someone will get you, but I think we’re all far too busy. Thank you for the ring and for finalizing these details. I will see you later tonight.”

With that, Portia gave them both a curtsey and left.

“Well, it seems we have some time before the farcical soiree,” Lorenz said and pulled Claude close, his hands resting palm-flat against the small of Claude’s back. “The kitchen is too busy with preparations for the party to give us anything more than small sandwiches, so I have plenty of room for chocolate. Are you in the mood?”

Claude’s face immediately flushed dark and he visibly swallowed. “Oh, yes. It would certainly be a way to pass the time.”

“Then strip and lay supine,” Lorenz said and let go of Claude. “It will take a few minutes for me to melt the chocolate.”

“Right,” Claude said and started to undo his sash, only to pause thoughtfully as he withdrew the yellow rose and set it aside on the table. “Hey, Lorenz?”

“Yes?” Lorenz asked as he retrieved the chocolate from his private, hidden supply; normally, he ate an entire bar over the course of a full year if only because it was so damn  _ expensive _ , but using it on Claude would be  _ worth _ it.

“Watch me?”

“Hm?” Lorenz said, looking up from his desk once he located the chocolate.

“Watch me,” Claude said, his voice growing low and laced with heat. 

Lorenz blinked, then couldn't restrain a smirk. He picked up his mug, broke the chocolate into pieces into the mug and set it back down on the writing desk. He pulled his chair around the writing desk, then sat down. He retrieved the cup, started to slowly dial up the heat in a fire spell as he held the ceramic in his hands, then looked pointedly at Claude. “Well? What are you waiting for? Undress for me, and make it worth the watch.”

Claude’s face flushed dark and his chin tilted up slightly at the combined demand and challenge. Claude didn’t like being told what to do, but  _ also _ wouldn’t back down when issued what amounted to a dare. 

The strip-tease was awkward and delightful and seductive in how... _ inexpert _ it was. Claude  _ clearly _ had a particular vision in his head about how it should go, but fumbled consistently because the scene in his head hadn’t accounted for the reality of Lorenz’s gaze, how he followed every one of Claude’s motions, traced the caresses with his eyes. He loved how the sunlight coming through the windows highlighted Claude’s form, was seduced by suggestion as much as reality. Claude stopped when he was half-undressed to bury his face in his hands and groan in clear embarrassment. 

“Stop looking at me like I’m, I’m…” Claude said into his hands, his voice tight.

“Like you’re…?” Lorenz asked, concern creeping into his voice. “I’m sorry, did I--?”

“No, no, you did nothing wrong,” Claude said, letting his hands fall. “I just...I…” he sighed in frustration. “I’m not used to being _ seen _ , let alone have someone...have someone look at me like I’m, I’m...like I’m some kind of treat that they’re denying themself temporarily in order to savor more later. I’ve always been...too slight, too short, too pale, too Fodlanese.  _ Lacking _ . So, you…I meant to fluster  _ you _ , and instead...”

“Claude.”

“Yes?”

“I delight in touching you whenever I can because a part of me can’t quite believe that someone like you would choose  _ me _ ,” Lorenz said. “You are handsome, smart, skilled, charismatic--everything I aspire to be, you simply are  _ effortlessly. _ If you would prefer I finish undressing you, I will, and I can return to melting the chocolate after you’re fully disrobed.”

“Could you?” Claude asked, sounding weirdly vulnerable and uncertain. 

Lorenz dispelled his magic, then placed his mug on a heat-resistant coaster before standing and walking the small distance to Claude. 

“I wanted to be  _ cool, _ but i didn’t take into account how much emotion lives in you and what it feels like when it leaks out,” Claude grumbled before Lorenz tilted his head up and bent down to catch him in a gentle kiss. He let go of Claude’s chin when Claude reached up to loop his arms around Lorenz’s neck, then carefully, lightly, ran his fingers down Claude’s chest, his fingertips tracing the curves of musculature, deviating to follow or linger on scars until they came into contact with the waistband of Claude’s pants. 

A thrill ran straight down Lorenz’s spine and he shivered as the sensation passed. He broke the kiss so he could go down on one knee; it was just easier to pull than push and Claude still had his shoes on, so those had to come off first. He also clearly remembered the reactions the other two times he had been on his knees in front of Claude, so he shot Claude the faintest of sly smirks and looked up at him as he picked up one foot to start pulling the boot off.

Claude’s face was several shades darker than usual and he covered his face again with an embarrassed, pleased groan. “How was this  _ also _ a bad decision?! So much for the  _ Master Tactician _ .”

“We haven’t played strip chess yet, have we?” Lorenz mused as he finished pulling off one boot and tossed it aside, setting that foot down and picking up the other. “Perhaps after the party we can play it to unwind.”

Claude moaned in appreciation. “That sounds  _ delightful _ .”

Lorenz tossed the second boot away and then reached up and hooked his fingers around the waistband of Claude’s pants and pulled them slowly down, nudging Claude to step out of them before tossing those aside. 

The scent of  _ arousal _ again sent his stomach in a churning uproar and a mixture of fear and anger clashed with his desire, but he  _ wanted _ Claude more than he was afraid of whatever spectral memories caused the confusing emotions, so pointedly also removed Claude’s underwear, which had a rather prominent damp spot on it due to Claude’s burgeoning erection. Lorenz stood, sliding his hands up along Claude’s body as he did so, then offered his hand to Claude. Claude took it and Lorenz guided him to the bed before pushing him to lying down. 

“It’s easier to clean sheets than blankets, so I’ll move the blankets while you’re melting the chocolate,” Claude said, his face still much darker than usual. 

“Thank you,” Lorenz said and returned to his desk, picking up his ceramic mug and channeling some of the energy of the Fire spell to his hands. 

“Might I also...might I ask a favor? You can say no,” Claude said, and Lorenz looked over to him. Claude was kneeling on the mattress, having pushed all the blankets off onto the far side of the bed and arranged a pillow for his comfort. 

“Of course.”

“I don’t want...I don’t want to interrupt or hinder you or be a distraction, so do you think you could tie my hands to the bedposts? It doesn’t have to be secure, I just need something to hold so that I don’t constantly try to get you out of your clothes and touch you and make this into something else or something you’re not into. It’ll also keep me a little bit more still, so...”

Lorenz shifted on his feet in discomfort. He was...less than a fan of restraints, but he wouldn’t actually be  _ restraining _ Claude, right? 

“I think I have two winter scarfs that are long enough to serve as what you’re asking for,” Lorenz said after a moment’s thought. He put the chocolate back down--he had lost control of the temperature so it was bubbling a little, so it was perhaps good he let it cool. He rifled through his closet until he found the two scarfs, then mechanically and efficiently tied Claude’s wrists to opposite bedposts. The scarfs were  _ barely _ long enough, and Lorenz had to retie them because the column ties were tied  _ too _ well the first time. He wanted Claude to be able to escape them.

Claude tugged on the pseudo-restraints and Lorenz wasn’t sure how to feel about the impressed expression Claude wore. However, his fears melted when Claude turned to him and gave him a smile and said, “Thank you. I know this probably nudged bad memories, but I do appreciate it--it will keep accidents to a minimum by not letting me grab you while you’re holding a mug of liquid chocolate.”

Lorenz nodded, tension flowing out of his posture. “You’re welcome. Speaking of, let me check the chocolate’s temperature.”

He retrieved the mug again and dipped his pinky in. It wasn’t  _ overly  _ hot, and if he only poured drop-by-drop then it likely would have time to cool some more before making contact with Claude’s skin. 

_ Now, how do we do this? _ Lorenz thought as he let his eyes roam over Claude’s body.  _ Hopefully there will be enough for his full form, but we’ll see. Where to start? _

Lorenz shifted his grip on the mug so he was holding the handle firmly, then placed his his left hand on Claude’s right shoulder, leaning over him and gradually tilted the mug so drops of liquid chocolate fell on the part of Claude’s chest that sloped down to the hollow between his collarbones until a small pool formed and began to spread along his collarbones. He set aside the mug, then leaned down and began to delicately lap up the chocolate. 

Somehow, whatever made Claude  _ Claude _ made the chocolate somehow taste even better, although the soft moan that escaped Claude was also gratifying. Because he knew how much Claude liked it, he spent some time kissing and nuzzling Claude’s neck, and Claude’s breathing noticeably sped up as he tended to the erogenous zone. When he pulled back to retrieve the mug and heat the chocolate a little, Claude’s eyes were open to barely-slits, and he was breathing hard. Still, when he saw Lorenz looking, he gave him a dazzling smile. 

Since Lorenz didn’t trust his aim and didn’t think he’d be able to lick the chocolate in time, he dipped his fingers in the mug and then drew patterns with the chocolate on Claude’s left arm, starting at the top of his shoulder and working to his wrist. Once content with his rather inexpert artwork, he leaned down and began to clean it away with his tongue; since he wasn’t sure it would be interesting for Claude, who was being incredibly accommodating, one of Lorenz’s hands began to idly play with Claude’s closer nipple as he did so. By the time he reached Claude’s wrist, it was to see that Claude’s hand was curled into a tight fist, his fingers grasping the fabric hard enough that the knuckles were white. He pulled back promptly, concerned, but Claude’s deep blush and how his head was tilted back with eyes squeezed shut said that he didn't have anything to worry about.

Still, as he reheated the chocolate, he asked, “Are you doing okay?”

Claude nodded emphatically, words apparently escaping him, which was...oddly delightful. Claude  _ always _ had something to say, so rendering him speechless was a major accomplishment. 

Once the right temperature, Lorenz treated Claude’s other arm to the same, coloring in what parts of the tattoo he could see in chocolate as well as extending the design in it a new, edible medium down the rest of his arm before meticulously licking away any evidence of the new pattern having existed. The chocolate was tasting a little burnt, but that wasn’t the  _ point _ . The point was tasting Claude, and how his natural musk and sweat mixed with the chocolate made the burnt taste completely ignorable. 

Lorenz pressed a kiss to Claude’s fingers as he pulled away from his wrist, and Claude unclenched his hand long enough to brush a feather-light caress against Lorenz’s face. 

Lorenz picked up the mug, gauged the amount of its contents, then dripped a small pool of chocolate on top of each of Claude’s already-overstimulated nipples, and a shuddering, low groan escaped the other man, which turned into a lusty cry when Lorenz began to clean the chocolate away with his tongue. Lorenz was...distantly certain that he’d probably end up with some of Claude’s chest hair in his mouth, but he’d survive. 

It seemed like there was a certain threshold of stimulation between speechless Claude and vocal Claude, since as he tended to Claude’s nipples with his lips and tongue, making sure to get rid of all traces of chocolate, Claude continually showered praises on him, and it made Lorenz feel  _ warm _ . Those were, admittedly, interspersed with various swears in Fodlanese, Almyran, and what Lorenz assumed was the language of the country to the east of Almyra, but that was also gratifying in a way.

Nipples were not nearly as large as arms, though, so Lorenz’s chocolate was still a good temperature, and he left a long trail of chocolate down Claude’s midline, stopping just before he reached Claude’s bellybutton. Due to how hard Claude was breathing, the chocolate had already been distributed to an extent across Claude’s torso, following the contours of muscles, scars, and body hair. He had more available space to  _ touch _ as well, so as he made sure to not miss a single lick of chocolate as his fingers memorized Claude’s form. 

Claude was obviously trying to  _ not _ squirm and failing miserably, his body reflexively seeking out contact with Lorenz as coherent words again faded in favor of wordless expressions of pleasure. Lorenz hadn’t  _ entirely _ expected to feel excited himself, but his leggings were now painfully restrictive and he didn’t think he’d ever felt so aroused in his life--his phallus ached and his balls felt heavy with unspent seed, but at the same time, he didn't  _ want _ to come because then the heady sensation would be gone and he weirdly enjoyed the feeling on standing on the edge. 

Once he was sure Claude’s torso was clean, he pulled back and as he reheated the chocolate to the appropriate consistency he murmured, “Still doing okay?”

All Claude could manage was a needy, slightly questioning whine. 

“I’m not done yet, no,” Lorenz said. “I still have chocolate left.”

That prompted a happy hum. 

Once the chocolate was the appropriate consistency, Lorenz dripped chocolate down from underneath Claude’s bellybutton to where Claude’s pubic hair started. It was a much smaller area, and was cleaned relatively quickly, so Lorenz shifted to spread Claude’s legs a little, then nudged Claude’s leg so it turned enough to reveal the inside of his thigh. He trailed his fingers lightly along the skin as he considered whether he could comfortably drizzle the chocolate or if he would have to finger-paint, and startled when Claude laughed, the sound itself slightly surprised. 

“Oh,  _ this _ is where you’re ticklish?” Lorenz said, amused, as Claude made a distressed sound of mild embarrassment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lorenz decided that Claude’s legs were simply too well-developed and the chocolate would run along the lines of muscle too quickly for him to lick, so began to finger-paint Claude’s skin. The fingers of his other hand very delicately stroked Claude’s scrotum and phallus as he (Lorenz) worked. Claude squirmed and wheezed as Lorenz did so, and only got worse when Lorenz began to lick away his handiwork. Lorenz felt the bed jerk, which meant Claude probably tried to reach down and was brought up short by his restraints, which provoked a whine of  _ need _ from the other man. 

After finishing Claude’s one leg, he raised his head to see that Claude looked absolutely  _ pained _ , his gaze fully fixed on Lorenz as he panted, his body glistening with sweat, the curls of his pubic hair saturated with precum. Lorenz  _ smirked _ as Claude’s eyes  _ begged _ him and he turned to fingerpainting Claude’s other leg.

By the time he had placed a gentle kiss on the top of Claude’s foot, he was nearly out of chocolate; however, there was still a little bit left. He regarded it as he scooted up so one hand was next to Claude’s hip as he regarded the mug. 

_ What to do? _ He wondered and an idea unfurled in his mind. A part of him reflexively balked because  _ proper nobles most definitely don’t lick other men’s dicks _ , but at the same time, he did want to know what  _ all _ of Claude tasted like, so... “Claude.”

Claude made a weary, questioning sound. 

“Watch me.”

Claude’s eyes fluttered open and then widened slightly as Lorenz wrapped his free hand around the base of Claude’s erection, then tipped the mug and dripped the remaining chocolate on Claude’s phallus. Lorenz could feel Claude shivering and the bedframe creaked a little as Claude yanked at his restraints. 

Lorenz felt Claude’s wide-eyed gaze on him as he leaned down and licked a trickle of chocolate starting at the base of Claude’s phallus and slowly worked his way to just barely not the head. Claude’s trembling grew more pronounced as a long moan of agony and bliss escaped him. Lorenz followed each drip trail with his tongue until Claude’s shaft was clean, and by the time he was done, Claude was clearly teetering on the edge of orgasm.

“Lorenz,  _ please _ ,” Claude begged. 

“You’ve been so good,” Lorenz purred. “I suppose you deserve it.”

Lorenz bent down and wrapped his lips around the head of Claude’s phallus and began to lick just the head; Claude shuddered and cried out in relief and ecstasy as he came. The chocolate cut the bitter, salty taste of the cum substantially so it was  _ tolerable _ ; it was still somewhat surprising  _ feeling _ Claude come in his mouth, and he kept licking until Claude was clearly spent. Lorenz pulled back and caught Claude’s phallus as it almost seemed to deflate and laid it gently against Claude’s body. 

Lorenz shifting to stand to get water to clean off any residual chocolate reminded him that he was still  _ very _ needy himself, and even the shift of his pants against his own erection sent shivers up and down his spine. Claude was in  _ no _ way cognizant enough to do anything, so Lorenz stood and awkwardly waddled over to his attached bathroom and quickly tended to his own need; he didn’t expect to his own orgasm to hit him quite as hard as it did, and he was startled both by the potency of the sensation  _ and _ how much he came. 

_ I’m glad I didn’t wait for Claude to recover,  _ Lorenz thought, his face burning as he tossed his leggings and underwear--both of which were too saturated with precum for him to feel comfortable in anymore--aside, wiped off his hand, and collected a small bowl of water and washcloth to clean Claude.  _ He would have had something to say for certain. _

Claude was still trying to catch his breath when Lorenz returned, and didn’t even respond when Lorenz sat back on the bed and began to clean anything he missed off with the washcloth, starting at Claude’s feet. By the time he reached Claude’s chest, the man was watching him with lazy satiation; even the rather efficient cleaning of Claude’s privates hadn’t provoked much more than a flinch and a hum from him. 

“How are you feeling?” Lorenz asked as he continued to wash. 

“Wonderful,” Claude answered, sounding a little sleepy. “Do you need any...help?”

“No, I’m fine,” Lorenz said. “ I already took care of myself.”

Disappointment settled on Claude’s features. “Oh, that’s too bad. I was looking forward to having your cum inside me.”

Lorenz startled at that as the possessive thing clawed at his self control and insisted that he  _ claim  _ Claude before the soiree, and what better way to do that than to fill him to bursting with his seed? He’d erase any traces previous lovers may have left behind, Claude would be  _ his _ . He had already accepted some of Claude into him, it was only fair anyway. Part of Lorenz resented how even just the  _ thought _ of the possibility already had him partly aroused; he must have made some kind of frustrated sound, since Claude looked over and a smirk formed on his face.

“Already ready to go again, huh?”

“Quiet you,” Lorenz pseudo-scolded. “I’ll finish washing you off and then I’ll untie you.”

“No, you’ll finish washing off chocolate residue and then you’re going to put your dick in my mouth and let me suck you off while I’m still restrained.”

“ _ Claude _ ,” Lorenz said, his face burning as he wrung out extra water from the washcloth. 

“It’s okay if you come quickly, we’ll start working on your endurance once you know what all the different ways I can stimulate you feel like,” Claude said with a languid grin. “You can also feel free to thrust into my mouth, I’m sure we can angle ourselves right so you can come down my throat.”

Lorenz made a strangled sound of indeterminate emotion and said, “Don’t  _ say _ things like that, Claude.”

“Please? I was very good and managed to hold off my orgasm until the very end and you were being a  _ tease _ . Don’t I deserve some kind of, uh, reward for doing so well?”

“You would consider performing fellatio on me to be a reward?”

“Absolutely.” He hesitated for a moment and his face colored as he said, “I also can’t stand the thought of not repaying the favor. You see, you, uh…”

“Yes?”

“Well, you’re the first person to  _ swallow _ ,” Claude said, his voice slightly tight with embarrassment. “And I think that you deserve the same because you licking my dick like an ice cream cone is going to  _ stay with me _ .”

“You prompt me to do things that I marvel at myself for later,” Lorenz muttered and moved to working on Claude’s right arm. The possessive creature was nagging at Lorenz to just  _ cave _ , to give Claude what he wanted, and if Claude wanted to drink his seed like water, who was he to deny him that?

However, Claude eventually sighed when the silence stretched on and he said, “Fine, not now. You probably have to start getting your head in the game for this party anyway, since I’m sure it’s going to be politically fraught because  _ what isn’t _ . But, later? I’m adding some rules to our strip chess game.”

“Very well,” Lorenz agreed and was relieved to undo the restraints; however, he made a soft, distressed sound when he saw that  _ marks _ were left behind.

“I didn’t mean to--” Lorenz began, but was cut off when Claude held his wrist out and said, “Kiss it and it’ll all be better.”

Lorenz looked between Claude’s rather earnest expression and his wrist, then shrugged and did as told; he also cast a Heal spell and the red marks almost immediately began to look better and less raw.

“Thank you,” Claude said and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Lorenz’s lips. “Finish my other arm and then why don’t I summon a bath and we can get changed into our formal party clothes and relax until we have to make our grand appearance?”

“They should be able to provide us with one in spite of how busy everyone is. That sounds good,” Lorenz said, mildly relieved. He cleaned Claude’s arm and undid that tie, and Claude immediately used his newfound freedom to drag Lorenz into a quick kiss before pushing himself fully upright and ringing the bell. They were both in bathrobes and had their clothing and the bedsheets in the dirty laundry basket when a maid came to see what Lorenz wanted; she left with the basket for later and the request for a bath to be brought, along with lunch, if any could be spared. 

“No funny business during the bath,” Lorenz said and Claude gave him the most  _ pathetic _ look. “We are sharing to conserve water and keep the number of trips my staff has to make to a minimum.”

Claude sighed overdramatically and flopped onto one of the overstuffed chairs, sprawling slightly. “If I must.”

“I did promise to play strip-chess with you after the soiree.”

“You did.”

“What is the rule that you’re adding or changing?”

“That’s a secret,” Claude said and gave him a wink. 

Lorenz pondered Claude for a moment, then asked, “Do I really have a bony butt?”

Claude burst out laughing, then gave Lorenz a languid grin and said, “I don’t know how you ride comfortably with so little padding.”

“Quiet you,” Lorenz grumbled, his face heating.

“I also wanted to know if I would like having you sitting in my lap, since the only other time you did such a thing you weren’t aware you were flirting and were oblivious to how it might make me feel,” Claude said. “I’ve decided I like curling up in yours better.”

Lorenz snorted. “I would have never suspected.”

Claude snickered.

The bath arrived shortly, and Lorenz had to work to keep Claude’s touches innocent while they bathed; Claude found it a delightful competition, of course, and there ended up being quite a bit of water on the floor as a result. 

“Now, show me what you need my help with,” Lorenz said once they were both washed and dry. “Let me see these royal, formal clothes.”

Claude smiled and rifled through his bag before pulling out a carefully packaged bundle. He undid the ribbons holding it all closed and unfolded it to reveal a diadem nestled in the midst of vibrant greens, yellows, reds with intricate embroidery of golden thread. It was a relatively simple outfit, from what Lorenz could see, with a cream-colored cap-sleeved shirt, a vest, baggy pants, a sash, and a cloth-of-gold overcoat. The vest was the most heavily embroidered, and the sash had the same coins that his usual one did, but it was obvious that the quality of all the fabrics and craftsmanship was absolutely stellar. Claude also brought out a  _ nicer _ pair of boots, and Lorenz found himself impressed. 

“I can’t see what you need my assistance with,” Lorenz said, running his fingers along the vest’s embroidery. “It all looks fairly straightforward.”

“Well, I’m not wearing the overcoat until absolutely necessary, but I was thinking that maybe I can teach you how to tie the sash correctly? It’s a general facet of Almyran clothing, so the sooner you learn to do it, the better.”

“Very well.”

Lorenz had figured out  _ how _ Claude taught, so it was quick, easy work; Claude looked pleased that Lorenz caught on so quickly. Lorenz stepped back to admire his and Claude’s work once Claude was dressed, and heat slowly crept into his face as he struggled with irrational and thoughtless anticipatory-jealousy.

“Lorenz? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I can let you go to the party,” Lorenz said, his voice ruthlessly neutral as he fought to wrangle his emotions. “You look too attractive. I don’t think I could handle everyone flirting with you. If I don’t die from jealousy myself, I’ll end up hurting someone.”

Claude’s face darkened with a blush as he laughed. “No, no. All this means is that we have to make you look just as attractive and then make it absolutely clear that I’m yours. I’m sure no one will be foolish enough to flirt with Count Gloucester’s special person.”

“And you are very special to me,” Lorenz replied with  _ feeling _ .

“That’s an awful line,” Claude semi-teased. “Come on. Let’s empty out your drawers and find the outfit that will make everyone wish they were you because of how handsome you look. Or wish they were me because I’m the one who gets to wake up next to such divinity every morning.”

“Claude, I’m n--”

“Oh, yes you are. If you were a god, what do you think you’d be the god of? Roses, for certain, but what else?”

They turned out all of his drawers and eventually put together an outfit that they both approved of. The breeches and high-collared overcoat were both deep purple velvet; the breeches had gold embroidery around the knee, while the overcoat had gold and red rose-patterned embroidery around the cuffs and hem, with an inside lining of deep scarlet satin. The vest worn over an ivory-colored, long-sleeved shirt was equally embellished with floral embroidery with gold buttons. The look was finished with polished, patent-leather, just-below-the-knee black boots with gold buckles. His cravat-pin was, predictably, a rose made of rubies. 

“Oh, this is awful,” Claude said, his face dark once Lorenz was dressed. “I don’t want to stop  _ touching  _ you. Almyran clothing doesn’t use velvet and yours is so delightfully plush.”

“You don’t want to stop touching me  _ ever _ .”

“Well, there’s that,” Claude said with a smirk. “So, what shall we do to pass the time?”

“Chess?” Lorenz offered. “Not with the kisses or strip chess, just...chess.”

“That’ll work, I suppose.”

They passed the time playing regular chess with stupid rules until there was a brisk knock at the door; Lorenz opened it so Claude could put on his overcoat.

Portia was waiting on the other side wearing a shit-eating grin and their mother’s favorite dress.

Lorenz blinked, coughed, then laughed. “You look wonderful, Tia.”

“I wear it better than she does, don’t I?” she said with a wink before unfurling a fan and hiding the bottom of her face with it in false modesty, her eyes sparkling wickedly. 

“You do,” Lorenz agreed and turned as Claude came up beside him. “What do you think, my love?”

“I mean, you’re not as pretty as  _ my _ Gloucester, but you’re definitely stunning,” Claude said after giving Portia a once-over. 

“You’re looking quite fetching yourself, Your Majesty,” Portia said and curtseyed. 

“I’m sorry, my love, but I won’t be able to walk in with you,” Lorenz said, looking to Claude. “I am more-or-less co-opting this to be my sister’s debut, so will be spending time with her introducing her to the local nobility and whatnot. Tia, is it okay if my first dance is with Claude?”

“I’d be insulted if it wasn’t,” Portia drawled. “After all, His Royal Majesty here is dashing enough that you need to stake your claim early since you can’t escort him in.”

“I will be announcing him, though,” Lorenz said. “Ah, you’re not wearing your diadem.”

“Do I have to?” Claude asked, brushing his fingertips against his forehead. “This coat already does a pretty good job of saying I’m royalty, don’t you think?”

“No,” Portia answered for Lorenz in the exact tone Lorenz would have used.

“It wouldn’t be proper,” Lorenz agreed. He entered his room and picked up the diadem, examining it for a second before carefully settling it on Claude’s head. Claude looked up once Lorenz had placed it and pulled away and Lorenz found himself stricken mute. Claude was  _ generally _ handsome, but clad in royal garb he was the  _ divine _ made flesh. If the Goddess had ever had a consort, he must have looked like Claude did then.

“Ooh, that  _ does _ make him even more handsome, doesn’t it?” Portia said. 

“Ah, yes,” Lorenz said, looking away as his face heated.  _ Maybe I can convince him to keep it on while we play chess? Or perhaps when we’re...intimate? _

The thought of doing awful things to Claude or having awful things done to him by Claude whilst he (Claude) wore the diadem was  _ far _ too arousing, so Lorenz ruthlessly suppressed the request and simply said, “Well, we’re prepared now. Shall we?”

There were general nods, and they left together for the main hall where the soiree was being held. Lorenz offered his arm to Portia, who hesitantly took it, Lorenz catching a quick, questioning glance being shot Claude’s way; Claude simply smiled and nodded, so Portia’s grip became somehow more firm and relaxed at the same time. 

Balthasar was waiting at the door to the main hall, from within which they could hear faint music and the dull hum of conversation. 

“Ready, Countess?” Lorenz asked and looked to Portia.

Portia tilted her head back, squared her shoulders, and nodded resolutely. “Absolutely not. But let’s get this on with.” 

Lorenz nodded to Balthasar, who opened the door for them and called out, “His Grace Count Lorenz Hellman Gloucester and his sister, Her Grace Countess Portia Cordelia Gloucester.”

“Cordelia? A delightful middle name,” Lorenz murmured as they entered.

“Thank you,” Portia replied equally quietly as she plastered a socially appropriate smile on her face. 

The low hum of conversation had turned into a more frenetic buzz--a Gloucester daughter? Since when? Thankfully, Portia was good at dealing with the pressure of people’s attention, so appeared nothing less than serene. 

Lorenz guided her to the middle of the hall, then spoke: “Thank you all for coming here today. I will not deny you the  _ real _ reason you have come here for much longer, but I would also like to take this opportunity to introduce you to the new Countess Gloucester. As I will be traveling to Almyra to serve as the Fodlanese ambassador, I am leaving Gloucester territory in the capable hands of my elder sister, while henceforth all Alliance concerns should be directed to the Margravine Marianne Edmund. Both competent women are present here tonight, so please take the time to get to know them well. I am not taking questions on the reasoning behind these transfers of power. But, without further ado, I would like to introduce you to my special--”  _ person _ “--guest, King Khalid of Almyra.”

With that, the door opened and Claude strode smoothly through. He paused dramatically right inside and let those in attendance look their fill. There were a few exclamations of surprise as slightly more in-the-know nobles recognized Khalid as Claude, and the room was filled with commentary on how regal and noble Claude appeared. 

Portia nudged him none-too-gently in the ribs and whispered, “Now that everyone’s here, go ask Claude for the first dance. Helena is flagging me rather desperately, so I have to see what’s going on and I’ll get the quartet going.”

“Very well,” Lorenz said, amused. Portia pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before bustling off. Claude already had a bit of a mob around him and was fielding questions and flirtation with ease. Lorenz heard the string quartet strike up in the background the introduction to a popular dance, and the Fodlanese nobles were well-trained enough to know to start to look for a dance partner. Lorenz caught Claude’s eyes, and Claude immediately nodded, a soft smile on his lips as Lorenz approached.

The crowd parted for him, and Lorenz executed a perfect bow before Claude before he extended his hand to the other man. “Might I have this dance, Your Royal Majesty?”

A broad smile formed on Claude’s face and he put his hand in Lorenz’s. “How could I refuse, Your Grace?”

“After we’re finished, you needn’t take a dance from anyone else, but I am expected to be active for a little while. Do you still remember how to waltz from Garreg Mach’s ball?” Lorenz asked as he led Claude to the center of the dance floor, various others partnering up and joining them, curiosity blatant on many faces. 

“Of course,” Claude said. “The question is, do you lead or do I?”

“I imagine you were only taught how to lead, and you  _ are _ the higher in station between us, so you lead and I’ll follow,” Lorenz said and settled his hands on Claude appropriately. Claude smiled faintly and took the remaining moment before the dance started to bring their intertwined hands together and press a kiss to the back of Lorenz’s. Then, they began.

It was a little odd to be following, but it was easy to fall into the steps of the dance; he had practiced every form of Fodlanese dance until his blisters had blisters, but for all the pain the memories of dance lessons brought, he felt...oddly  _ free _ . He had thought the stories and operas and plays where the world seems to slip away from the protagonist as they dance with their love was hyperbole and foolishness, but reality seemed to narrow until it was comprised of just him, Claude, and the music. He was aware of other couples on the periphery enough to avoid collisions, but Claude was the most arresting thing in existence, and all that mattered was how well they moved in time, how Claude seemed to relax, his eyes remaining fixed on Lorenz instead of drifting down to his feet to double-check his steps. Claude’s face seemed to slowly grow darker and darker the longer the dance lasted, his pupils blown wide as his lips were parted all too temptingly. Lorenz couldn’t quite stop himself and, at the end of the dance, instead of letting go of Claude and pulling away for a socially acceptable and appropriate bow, he tugged Claude close and leaned in to press a gentle, chaste kiss to Claude’s lips. It simply...felt like the right thing to do. 

The contact wasn’t particularly long or torrid, but Claude visibly swallowed once Lorenz pulled back and performed the expected bow. Claude returned the formal bow after a heartbeat and said, “You were excellent, Your Grace.”

“It is always a pleasure to find the perfect partner,” Lorenz responded and offered his hand to Claude. “I need to dance with my sister so others know that is expected and acceptable for them to ask her to dance, but should you ask for another dance in the future, I will never turn down the opportunity.”

Claude put his hand in Lorenz’s without hesitation and allowed himself to be led off the floor. Whispers followed them, but they didn’t hold the same kind of  _ edge _ that Lorenz was used to hearing when he was a topic of conversation. He let go of Claude once they were clear of the dance floor, and Claude seemed...distracted. However, it didn’t seem to be a dangerous kind of distraction, and Lorenz trusted Claude to be able to take care of himself for a few dances as he fulfilled his duty. 

There was color high in Portia’s cheeks when he approached her and her eyes were sparkling, but her expression was serene. 

“Might I have a dance?” Lorenz asked and offered his hand.

“Of course,” Portia said, curtseying before placing her hand in Lorenz’s. “Although I admit I don’t actually know how…”

“Which is why you will stand on my feet and I will dance for the both of us,” Lorenz said. “Trust me, I’ve had Shadow step on my feet, you cannot possibly hurt more than an annoyed stallion taking out his frustrations.”

Portia giggled slightly at that and balanced the balls of her feet on Lorenz’s toes. She was heavier than anticipated, but Lorenz had dropped things on his feet that had him worried he might have broken something, so it was ignorable. 

“The best part is, anyone who asks you to dance won’t be allowed to comment on your lack of technique,” Lorenz said with a covert wink once the dance began. “Since you outrank everyone except myself and Khalid.”

“Is it Claude or Khalid?” Portia asked.

“Both,” Lorenz said with a shrug. “I...admit I have not yet asked which he prefers. He seems amicable to either. And look at me, not your feet. Dancing is about connecting with your partner and sharing the pleasure of the moment. I will find you appropriate teachers to catch you up on decades of noble education before I leave for Almyra. If they are condescending or do not work well with you, please don’t hesitate to fire them and find new teachers.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Portia said and pointedly caught and held his eyes. “You know, this is almost like a dream wrapped in a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“Many little girls like to pretend that they’re actually secretly princesses that were separated from their family due to some nefarious scheme, and while I’m not a princess, Countess Gloucester is pretty close to it. However, I’m also Countess  _ Gloucester _ , and our House doesn’t exactly have the best reputation.”

“I have begun repairs,” Lorenz admitted. “But I think it will take some time to rewrite the narrative around the Gloucester name. We are combatting centuries of unethical behavior and rumors, after all.”

“True,” Portia agreed. “You and Khalid looked stunning together, by the way.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” Lorenz said, amused. 

“No one will ever claim that a Gloucester is heartless again, either,” Portia continued. “Not with the tenderness you’ve shown.”

“My father would claim that tenderness is a weakness.”

“ _ Our _ father is a giant penis,” Portia responded drolly. “So his opinions don’t count.”

Lorenz chuckled. “I suppose so.”

Lorenz finished the dance with a flourish that made Portia laugh in delight, and, after giving him the expected curtsey, pulled him into a hug. Lorenz froze for a millisecond before hugging her back, pressing a kiss to her head. “Everything will be fine. But, if anything does go awry, please don’t hesitate to fight back or involve me. You are  _ Countess _ now, Your Grace.”

Portia let him go and nodded. “And no one will complain if I step on their toes?”

“Oh, they’ll complain behind your back, but pay them no heed...or say that they should consider it an honor to have their toes stepped on by a lady of your prestige.”

Portia giggled at that and gave Lorenz another curtsey, which he responded to with the appropriate bow. 

While Lorenz would have liked to disregard his responsibilities and just find Claude and cling to him to prevent other people from getting close, he was approached by almost every noble present, either to ask to be his dance partner or to inquire after gossip and news. Thankfully, Lorenz and Portia looked so startlingly similar that there were never any questions about whether or not he was  _ certain _ that she was his sister. She dealt with the continuous introductions with grace and aplomb, conducting herself with a kind of intrinsic nobility that made Lorenz proud.

Only one noblewoman was bold--or indelicate--enough to ask after the relationship between Claude and him.

“We are in a romantic relationship,” Lorenz answered bluntly. “I will not be answering any questions about what that entails and will consider it insulting to be asked. This also holds for if I find out anyone asked His Majesty to elaborate on my statement.” He wouldn’t have to deal with the speculation long, anyway; for the most part, people held their questions in their eyes but never asked with their mouths.

As he finished a dance with a minor nobleman’s daughter, he caught sight of a commotion occuring a little off the dance floor. Lorenz had a  _ bad _ feeling that he would find Claude at the center of the commotion, and his heart skipped a few beats out of fear. He excused himself and quickly made the way over to the growing crowd. As predicted, Claude was at the center of it, but Lorenz’s stomach dropped when he saw that his  _ father _ was the one squaring off against him (Claude). Lorenz shouldered through the crowd until he breached the human wall.

“Is something the matter?” Lorenz asked.

It was awful, but Claude made haughty and imperial look  _ sexy _ , and Lorenz had to quickly banish unworthy thoughts of Claude  _ commanding _ him with such a cool expression because  _ damn  _ would that be arousing.  _ Not the time, _ he told himself as he focused on Claude’s response.

“Not at all, Your Grace,” Claude replied, although his gaze never shifted from Lorenz’s father. His voice was resonant with authority and steely disdain for the man vibrating with fury only a few feet from him. “This has-been simply needed to be reminded of his place. Well, Lord Albany? The choice is yours.”

“ _ Choice _ ?” Lorenz’s father sputtered, and Lorenz looked to the closest noble, who was hiding her expression behind her fan, although her eyes danced with glee.

“What choice did he offer my father?” Lorenz asked quietly.

“It’s actually rather romantic,” the woman said. “Your father has been saying some...uncomplimentary things...about you and attempting to gauge if there is any support amongst the rest of us to help him overthrow you and your sister--there is no support for such, don’t worry, Your Grace. His Majesty caught wind of that and confronted him about it. Your father was...excessively obsequious and offered a handshake. His Majesty is apparently aware of your father’s penchant for... _ casket rings _ ...and declined before accusing him of attempting a political assassination. That was followed up with a gracious offer to overlook the affront, but he would have to get on his knees and beg for  _ your _ forgiveness for being so rotten and trying to sabotage you.”

_ Oh, he’ll never do that, _ Lorenz thought and murmured a thanks before turning his attention back to the tense scene before him. His father’s pulse was visible in his temple, his face flushed bright red, while Claude looked the very picture of royal composure. “Well, father?” Lorenz asked aloud. “King Khalid is being quite generous, all things considered. Attempting the assassination of a king is usually punishable by death, and given how badly it would destabilize political matters right now, I don’t think you have many defenders.”

Lorenz made an idle, seemingly absent gesture that most would overlook--however, he knew that his guards would recognize it as a stand-by and would be ready to intervene at his signal. 

The silence stretched out so Lorenz prompted, “Father, make your decision. Do you take King Khalid’s offer or not?”

“You’ll have to pardon me for not kneeling,” his father eventually said through clenched teeth. “After the confrontation with Nemesis my leg isn’t what it used to be and kneeling is painful. It was...inconsiderate of me to say and do the things I did. Please overlook this old man’s indiscretion.”

_ Yes, I was expecting as much. Some ‘apology,’ _ Lorenz thought and shook his head slowly when it was clear his father was finishing speaking. “The time for forgiveness is past, I’m afraid. I warned you that I would exile you if you attempted to hurt King Khalid, and I am not in the habit of making empty threats. You will be confined to your rooms until the conditions of your expulsion have been settled with the Sovereign Byleth and the Church of Seiros. And before you say anything about allowing an old man to fend for himself, your wife will be going with you.”

With a gesture the Manse guards swarmed Albany, gagged, and restrained him before leading him forcibly away. Lorenz caught one of the guards and passed on that his mother should be equally confined; a few minutes later, a series of quickly cut-off indignant shrieks told Lorenz that his orders were being followed. 

“My apologies for the disturbance,” Lorenz said once his parents had been removed. “Please do continue to try to enjoy yourselves; the night is yet young.”

“So, rumor around the party is we’re dating,” Claude said as he sauntered over, and Lorenz’s heart thrilled at the heat in his eyes. 

“Oh, is that so?” Lorenz asked as Claude wrapped his arm around Lorenz’s waist. “Well, I may have mentioned that we are in a relationship, so…”

“Oh, good. I can do this then,” Claude said and then casually swept Lorenz’s feet out from under him so he could guide him into a dip-kiss. 

Lorenz scrambled for stability by clinging to Claude until he got his feet back and gave Claude a disapproving look, even if he was struggling to stop himself from smiling. “Thank you, by the way,” Lorenz said once the kiss broke. “For standing up to my father on my behalf.”

“It was the bare minimum,” Claude said and righted Lorenz, straightening his jacket for him. “I’ve been wanting to go off on your father for  _ days _ , so having the chance to give him a dressing-down felt exquisite.”

“ _ You _ are exquisite.”

“And you’re in love with me.”

“Along with half the women and probably a fraction of the men, too.”

“And the only reason you don’t realize that you have the other half of the women and some men drooling over your fine, pert ass is because you’re so in love with me that you just think their odd behavior stems from them feeling tipsy,” Claude maybe-teased. “How much longer will the party last?”

“I don’t know, to be honest,” Lorenz said with a shrug. “Until I get complaints from my servants or Portia calls it a night.”

“Sure I can’t convince you to leave a little earlier?”

“I am technically the host,” Lorenz pointed out. “If you’re feeling tired, please feel free to leave, though.”

“If I’m not here, people might leave sooner,” Claude mused. “But I haven’t eaten yet…”

“The food is just coming out,” Lorenz said. “How about another dance? By then it should be available for us. I expect those still here will anticipate a toast…”

“Worry about that later. For now, we dance. You lead this time, okay?”

“If that is what Your Majesty wishes, who am I to decline?” Lorenz said and led Claude back to the dance floor.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: **The spicy stuff** : anal fingering, fellatio. **All other warnings** : Lorenz's parents, emotional distress. This is definitely a roller coaster of a chapter, so just be forewarned.
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who reads, comments, kudos, bookmarks, _whatever_ , I appreciate your patronage since it means I'm not doing this for just myself and that feels nice.
> 
> And because I am a holdover from ye olde days of fandom: Nothing FE:3H belongs to me.

“You know, if you don’t  _ want _ me to suck your dick, you can just say that,” Claude growled as he watched Lorenz wake. Claude was lying on his side, his cheek propped in the palm of one of his hands, the fingers of his other hand taping an irritated staccato on Lorenz’s chest.

Lorenz wasn’t sure what to expect of his mornings anymore, but a discussion over his denying Claude the opportunity to perform fellatio the previous night due to both of them being exhausted from dancing and too much food and wine wasn’t exactly how he imagined he’d wake up. Then again, he had also had  _ very _ vivid dreams of a pregnant Claude, and the thought of the man carrying their shared child, while obviously nonsensical and biologically impossible, was far more arousing than it had any right to be. His own morning wood combined with an apparently sexually frustrated Claude were what led to Claude growling at him, as far as Lorenz could tell.

“It’s not that I don’t  _ want _ that, it’s…” Lorenz used his yawn as an excuse to try to organize still-groggy thoughts.

“What?”

“I…” Lorenz hesitated, then sighed heavily. “I’m not sure how to explain it.”

Claude regarded him with narrow-eyed intensity before he said, “Oh, no, I know what you’re doing. You’re doing the ‘I don’t trust myself’ again. Lorenz, you’re  _ not _ going to hurt me.”

“You can’t know that for certain.”

“Yes I can,” Claude replied firmly. “You didn’t hurt me yesterday, did you? I just don’t see how it’s fair to you that you get me off, but not require me to return the favor?”

“I don’t…” Lorenz sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair. “What if I  _ enjoy _ it?”

“You’re supposed to!”

“No, I said it wrong,” Lorenz groaned. “I mean, what if I enjoy it  _ too much _ ? What if it’s not enough? What if I want  _ more _ ?”

“More like penetrative-sex more?”

Lorenz made a sound of flustered embarrassment and muttered, “Yes, like that. I’m also...very aware of how inexperienced and inept I am and you deserve a better lover than me.”

Claude squirmed, then sighed heavily himself. “Alright, we should have a discussion about my sexual history.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t--”

“No, no, none of the memories are  _ awful _ , I can talk about them without bitterness and you should know anyway. While a part of me likes that you think I’m, like, super experienced and with high expectations, I have had a grand total of three  _ serious _ , physically intimate relationships: two boyfriends and one girlfriend. With my first boyfriend, we did some kissing and heavy petting, maybe a hand job here and there, but didn’t get past that. I did have penetrative sex with my girlfriend, but she was so terrified that she’d have a demon-baby in spite of us taking precautions that she broke it off shortly after that. I never successfully had penetrative sex with my second boyfriend. We got to the point of being prepared multiple times, but he would always back out before we actually did anything because he didn’t want me to come in him nor did he want to ‘take the chance’ on penetrating me and risk some Fodlanese demon-taint or bad luck being transferred to him. So, um. Yeah. I don’t have  _ that _ much more experience than you do. I know a lot of things  _ in theory _ , but putting them into practice is something completely different. So we’re perfectly matched as far as I’m concerned. We’ll be, uh, figuring things out together mostly. So, don’t feel like you have something to live up to, because you don’t.”

Lorenz blinked, oddly taken off-guard. “Oh. Well, then.”

“Yeah.”

“...those were your  _ only _ relationships?” Lorenz asked, confused. “I just can’t fathom  _ you _ not being sought after. You’re brilliant, charismatic, stunningly handsome--”

“And Fodlanese,” Claude interrupted, although the smile he wore said he was enjoying the compliments. “I’m pretty ‘cause I’m a demon.”

“Nothing you have done, in bed or outside it, have been particularly demonic.”

“Oh, you’d like me to be feisty?” Claude asked, tilting his head in mild curiosity. 

Lorenz felt his face heat. “I...honestly don’t know what I’d like.”

“You seemed to like what you did to me yesterday,” Claude said.

“I did, yes,” Lorenz murmured. “I liked hearing you, liked how you  _ reacted _ . It felt good. I liked learning...learning  _ how _ to touch and taste you so the normally eloquent Master Tactician was rendered speechless.”

“I very badly would like to learn you, too,” Claude said and the fingers that had been tapping their annoyance on Lorenz’s body relaxed so Claude’s hand spread out palm-down on Lorenz’s body.

“You’ve given me plenty of massages,” Lorenz pointed out. “I’d think you’d know my body fairly well.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly the same,” Claude said. “I know how to relax you and know where you’re sensitive, but I don’t entirely know the best ways to touch you to arouse. I know where you’re ticklish, but I don’t know the places that make you squirm and pant.” Claude blinked. “Actually, I’ve never seen you lose yourself in a good way. You saw me unravel. Could you give me that gift?”

“I can...try?” Lorenz offered. “I’m not sure how I would. I…” Lorenz turned an idea over in his head. “I’m going to get fully dressed, and then I want you to strip me while you are wearing just a robe and your diadem. But don’t just take my clothes off, like…” he gestured vaguely, but Claude nodded enthusiastically, seemingly understanding. “And if I’m aroused by the time you’re done, I give you permission to, to…” Lorenz’s face burned. “I give you permission to, ah...to...to…”

“Suck your dick?” Claude offered with a licentious grin. 

“Yes, that,” Lorenz groaned. “I told everyone that I didn’t need tea or breakfast brought to me today, that theycould take the morning off after all the clean-up from last night, so we will be undisturbed until we leave this room or call someone.”

“Oh, a whole  _ morning _ of potential debauchery?” Claude said and trailed his fingertips down Lorenz’s torso, stopping over his bellybutton, then reversing course to stop at the dip between his collarbones. “That sounds  _ delightful. _ ”

“Well, plenty of my staff will be nursing hangovers, since I allowed them to finish all the opened wine bottles,” Lorenz said and pushed himself up to sitting. “Let me get changed and find you the robe I’m thinking of in particular.”

“Oh?” Claude said, sounding far too intrigued as Lorenz looked through his armoire. He tossed out a typical outfit for himself that he wouldn’t mind soiling, then went digging a little deeper until he pulled out a package from the depths. “Is that the robe? It must be special to have been so carefully packaged,” Claude said, sitting on the end of the bed and watching Lorenz as he gently unwrapped the parcel.

“It was an...impulse buy,” Lorenz eventually admitted. “I came across the merchant while I was in Enbarr attending Dorothea and Manuela’s final performance with the Mittlefrank Opera Company. They had returned to the stage to revitalize the company and help raise funds for repairs needed due to our raid on the Imperial Capital. It was only later that I realized I would never have anyone I would want to wear such a thing for, but it was just...I couldn’t leave it. The merchant assumed I was buying it for a certain lady in my life.”

It had cost a small fortune, but Lorenz had honestly not cared. He unfolded the robe and held it out for Claude’s inspection. The robe was barely-not-négligée by virtue that it was opaque. It was made of the finest silk Lorenz had ever encountered, with wide, three-quarter length sleeves, delicate lace trim around the cuffs. Hand-painted flowers in gold and white bloomed against a deep purple background and trailed down the front panels before expanding into a larger arboreal design on the back. The sash that came with it was the same shade of purple as the body of the robe.

Claude whistled and almost reverently picked up the cloth, his eyebrows snapping up at the quality of the silk. “Holy hells, I don’t think  _ I _ have something this nice at home and I am much closer to the main silk traders than you here in Fodlan. This was a  _ find _ .”

“If you don’t have anything as nice as this, then consider it yours,” Lorenz said. 

Claude looked up sharply from the robe, jaw dropping slightly. “I can’t!”

“Of course you can,” Lorenz said. “It was obviously waiting for you. I had almost forgotten about it. Go ahead and put it on.”

Claude hesitated for a moment before taking it from Lorenz and slipping it on. “A little sad it doesn’t smell like you, though,” Claude muttered as he tied the sash. He ran his hands down the fabric and shook his head, clearly impressed. “You have one more chance to take it back.”

“No, it’s yours now,” Lorenz said as he changed into his clothes. He picked up Claude’s discarded diadem from his writing desk, then walked over to where Claude was standing admiring himself in the mirror and lightly placed the diadem on his brow. Lorenz stood back and a shiver worked its way slowly down his spine. Yes, Claude looked good in his formal clothing and cleaned up. But, there was something decadently deviant about him in a barely-cinched silk robe, the sash poorly hiding his phallus, the cloth of the robe hugging his muscular form, a royal circlet settled amongst messy bed-head, his eyes already dark with  _ promises _ . 

Lorenz swallowed hard, but before he could speak Claude turned to face him, a smile on his lips that made Lorenz’s mouth go dry. 

“You’re not allowed to help me,” Claude said, his voice a low, growling command. “All you need to do is stand there and let me touch you.”

_ Oh dear, _ Lorenz thought as Claude reached up and deftly undid the tie on his (Lorenz’s) cravat, tossing the fabric aside onto the bed before sliding his hands along the sides of Lorenz’s neck, cupping his face and tilting his head up to better expose his throat.  _ Perhaps I wasn’t as ready as I thought. _

He swallowed and felt Claude’s tongue taste his skin. He was hovering somewhere between anticipation, fear, and annoyance, and feeling Claude leave light kisses up his neck made him shiver. Once he reached the junction of neck and jaw, Claude pulled away, a smirk on his lips. 

Claude’s fingers deftly undid the buttons on Lorenz’s tailcoat as Claude caught Lorenz’s lips in a deep kiss, and pushed the cloth of the jacket off of Lorenz’s shoulders, catching it before it could hit the floor and tossing it on a nearby chair. Lorenz tried to touch Claude, but Claude caught his wrists and pulled back from the kiss, giving Lorenz a  _ very _ disapproving look. 

Lorenz’s head was spinning and he had to lean back on a desk to steady himself. Claude seemed to take that as an invitation, and stepped forward, pushing him lightly down so he was half sitting on the desk, scattering a few pens and crumpling paper as he settled. Claude’s gaze pinned him and left him trembling. People had looked at him with a fairly wide variety of emotions in their eyes--fear, anger, and mistrust by far being the most common. He had thought he had known what desire and lust looked like on Claude, but the naked  _ hunger _ on Claude’s face was something he’d never experienced before. Lorenz distantly thought he should combust from the heat in Claude’s eyes.

“Only I get to touch,” Claude scolded. “You’re just  _ feeling _ now. Understood, Count Gloucester?”

“Very well,” Lorenz said. “Where do I put my hands, then, if I can’t touch you?”

“Hold onto the table. If I need you to let go, I’ll tell you or move your hands myself.”

Lorenz nodded once, sharply, mildly annoyed for reasons he couldn’t quite name. 

Lorenz was exceedingly impressed when Claude leaned in and, only using his hands to make the cloth taught, he managed to unbutton his (Lorenz’s) shirt using just his mouth. After each button was undone, Claude would place kisses on the bare skin up to his (Lorenz’s) collarbones, then dip his head back down to work on the following button. Lorenz had to strangle a giggle when Claude kissed his bellybutton, and it turned into a shuddering sigh when Claude untucked his shirt, then pulled back to  _ slowly _ slide it off. He mapped out Lorenz’s torso with his fingertips and lips, tasted the memories that lingered in what scars Lorenz carried, and Lorenz found that he couldn’t look away from the  _ thoroughness _ with which Claude studied him.

It was  _ difficult _ to corral the possessive creature that roamed his soul when it kept lunging for the cracks in his self-control, battering against the bars that very badly kept his  _ desire _ in check. Claude encouraged Lorenz to release his grip on the table to fully remove his shirt, then regarded Lorenz’s hand thoughtfully. He took it in his hands, brought it up to his lips for a kiss, but didn’t stop at that, instead extending two of Lorenz’s fingers, an almost  _ evil _ smirk twisting Claude’s lips. There was something  _ filthy _ about how Claude took his fingers into his mouth, his tongue twining around them, coating them with saliva. He kept uncomfortable eye contact the entire time, but Lorenz found he couldn’t look away. It was deliberate provocation, and the way he moved his head and managed to take the full length of his fingers into his mouth were  _ clearly _ meant to be analogs for things meant to be done much lower on Lorenz’s anatomy. 

Brief flashes of memory of how _ inviting _ Claude had looked tied to the bedposts plagued Lorenz as Claude pulled back, Lorenz’s fingers slipping out of his mouth with a wet, lewd pop. Claude rested his hands on Lorenz’s hips, his thumbs tracing the rather sharp, prominent curve of Lorenz’s hips as Lorenz vibrated with the effort of keeping himself still. 

“Consider that a preview of what I want to do to you,” Claude purred, and Lorenz’s skin prickled. “Take you  _ all in _ and drink you to the last drop.”

Lorenz was distantly grateful his Crest simply made him resistant to poisons and not insanely strong, as he was fairly certain he would have broken the table from how hard he was gripping its edge. “Oh, will you now?” Lorenz asked in response, and the dangerous, hot edge in his voice surprised him. He was too close to losing his metaphorical grip, and the way that Claude’s hands had slipped underneath the cloth of his pants said that he was nowhere near finished with him. 

Claude returned the pseudo-challenge with a seemingly feral grin. “ _ Yes _ . You’re my breakfast this morning, and I’m not going to stop until I have my fill of you.” Claude’s palms rested against the bare skin of Lorenz’s glutes, but there wasn’t even the slightest tremor of fear, even when Claude began to lightly, almost teasingly knead his flesh. “All muscle, huh?”

“I keep myself in good shape,” Lorenz said, his chin reflexively tilting up slightly in something like pride. 

“So you do,” Claude said. He paused, then pulled his hands out so he could brace his hands on Lorenz’s knees as he himself got down on his knees to first take off Lorenz’s shoes and socks, tossing them all underneath the bed and out of the way. 

He then reached up to nudge Lorenz off the table and to standing, then began to pull down his pants. It was a tortuously slow process, Claude’s fingers and lips insistently exploring every new patch of skin revealed. It was a shock, then, how quickly he just almost  _ yanked _ his underwear off and tossed it away.

It had been a  _ challenge _ , staying still, when a massive part of him wanted to pin Claude to the floor and...and...and make him regret being a  _ tease _ .

“You always talk about your  _ desire _ like it’s some kind of feral creature,” Claude said as he gently ran his hand up and down the outside of Lorenz’s leg. “Something to be afraid of. Well, hate to break it to you, Your Grace, but I’m not so easily scared. I  _ want _ to see that. Show him to me, this beastly Gloucester that clings to your edges, who you fear. I bet he’s no worse than a kitten.”

“Are you sure?” Lorenz asked, his stranglehold on the clawing, thrashing  _ need _ growing more tenuous, shoving increasingly desperate and arousing images at him. Claude on his bed, head thrown back in wordless ecstasy, his body trembling in thoughtless want, spread open, waiting and ready for him. Claude wanted him, had indicated he wanted him  _ in him _ , it was different from the first time, why was he  _ resisting _ ?

_ “I was looking forward to having your cum in me.” _

In response to the question, Claude turned his head into Lorenz’s groin and slowly licked up Lorenz’s phallus, from root to tip, never once breaking eye contact.

The possessive thing in his chest finally slipped its shackles, and Lorenz reached down carefully and trailed his fingers down Claude’s cheeks, neck, and shoulders before thrusting his hands under Claude’s armpits and dragged him up and into a hungry kiss, the contact almost bruising. 

_ Look only at me.  _

The kiss was short-lived, however, as Lorenz shifted his grip and lifted Claude so he could throw him over his shoulder; this made Claude’s cry of protest at how brief the kiss had been turn into a yelp of surprise. 

_ Think only of me.  _

Lorenz more-or-less  _ tossed _ Claude onto the bed before undoing the tie for the robe and pulling the sash free. Claude helped him get rid of the robe itself, but Lorenz kept the sash. When Claude reached out to pull Lorenz into a kiss, he (Lorenz) wrapped the sash around Claude’s dominant wrist and did a quick, tight column tie to the closest bed post, yanking perhaps a little hard; however, Claude didn’t  _ fight _ the tie, not really, although he did reflexively test it and again seemed impressed.

_ I will be your sweetest poison. _

Lorenz crawled onto the bed himself and nudged Claude further up towards the headboard before leaning down and  _ kissing _ him; Claude’s moan echoed in his own body, and the fingers of Claude’s free hand tangled in Lorenz’s hair. 

_ I will be the addiction that brings you to your knees. _

He broke the kiss only so he could delicately savage Claude’s neck and ear, his hands starting to roam Claude’s torso. 

“Mine,” he growled while still lightly biting down on the ear that was pierced, and Claude groaned. 

“All yours,” Claude moaned in response as his free hand ran down Lorenz’s spine. 

_ Claim him mark him mine mine  _ mine _. _

There were plenty of other places still available to his mouth and hands, so Lorenz let go and drifted down to Claude’s chest. He pressed quick, wet kisses on each nipple before he chose to focus on Claude’s left nipple for a little. He would mark both, of course, but left was as good a place to start as any. He delicately bit down on the sensitive flesh, then sucked, and Claude let out a keening cry of ecstasy, his body reflexively bucking at the sensation. There was a jerk on the bedframe as Claude’s dominant hand was brought up short even as his still-free hand was touching everywhere he could reach on Lorenz. 

When Lorenz moved to even out Claude and mark his other side, he shifted his weight and position so he could reach down between their bodies and stroked Claude’s burgeoning erection to full life as he treated Claude’s right nipple to the same he had subjected the left to. Claude whined and squirmed, thrusting up into Lorenz’s touch as he panted half-formed words. 

Once content that there was  _ no way _ that Claude wouldn’t be aware each time his shirt rubbed against his chest, he pulled back and took stock of Claude’s appearance; he seemed delightfully off-balance, and visibly shivered when their eyes met. 

_ Claim him make him yours. _

“Here, make yourself useful and suck,” Lorenz commanded and slid his fingers into Claude’s open mouth. Claude obeyed with  _ enthusiasm _ , muffled moans escaping him as Lorenz continued to leave tiny, biting kisses across his torso, his free hand leisurely stroking Claude’s erection. Once he was content with how slick Claude had his fingers, he pulled them out to a protest from Claude. 

“It dawned on me that there’s one place I actually haven’t touched on you yet,” Lorenz said and shifted so he was suspended over Claude. “Or, rather,  _ in _ you, I suppose.”

Claude stared at him, wide-eyed, and groaned when Lorenz’s slickened fingers found his (Claude’s) anus and began to gently, insistently press on it. Claude mumbled something in Almyran, then actually shifted to expose himself more, and Lorenz’s finger breached the ring of muscle, sliding in. Claude moaned at the invasion and Lorenz shivered. 

He was  _ inside _ Claude. He was tight, warm, and Lorenz pushed in further, to his second knuckle, then to the base of his finger. Claude’s body seemed to flutter around him and Lorenz felt strangely heavy and  _ present _ , because Claude was breathing  _ hard _ , and while his expression did carry an edge of pain to it, there was such naked lust in his gaze that Lorenz wasn’t  _ too _ worried. 

“Another,” Claude gasped and reached down between them to stroke the forearm that had the hand that was partially penetrating Claude.

“Already?” Lorenz asked as he began to slowly withdraw his hand, running his fingertip along the inside walls of Claude as he did so. He remembered reading something in a paper once about how some male subjects would have a pleasurable reaction to anal examinations, that there was a particular spot that seemed to provoke a  _ reaction… _

“Ye-es,” Claude panted and squirmed. “Want more of  _ you _ .”

When only the tip of his finger remained inside Claude, Lorenz carefully added a second, sliding it in slowly beneath the original finger before pressing in. Once he was in to his second knuckle he spread his fingers and began to investigate whether or not Claude had that particular pleasurable spot in him. As his fingers moved in Claude--who seemed to be enjoying it, from how he twitched and moaned--he nudged Claude’s legs open a little more and began to press biting kisses along the inside of Claude’s thighs. That provoked a couple of choice curses and Claude’s fingers desperately carded through his (Lorenz’s) hair. 

Claude’s fingers abruptly spasmed shut as a high-pitched cry of shock escaped him; Lorenz looked up from tending to the delicate, sensitive skin in time to see Claude look poleaxed, his mouth agape in surprised pleasure. So, Lorenz went back to where he had been just touching and stimulated the area with his fingertips again. Claude’s whole body jerked and he swore before gasping, “What are--what did--” but the words quickly lost coherence as Lorenz continued to put pressure on and off the area. Claude’s entire body trembled and he released Lorenz’s hair to roughly grab his own erection, clearly putting almost painful pressure on himself, probably in an attempt to stave off an orgasm.

“Gonna come if you don’t stop,” Claude wheezed even as his body instinctively sought out and met Lorenz’s ministrations. “Oh  _ gods _ . Lorenz--yes, ah,  _ yes,  _ that, there-- _ please _ . Wait. Wait! Stop! Stop stop stop.”

Lorenz froze, confused. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no,  _ gods _ no, you’re not. But, hng--” Claude covered his face with his free hand and made a strangled sound of embarrassment before saying, “I want your dick in me.”

“Oh?”

Claude’s blush seemed to extend all the way from the roots of his head-hair to his nipples as he grumbled, “I want you inside me. I’m  _ dying _ to feel you move in me. Please, Lorenz.  _ Please _ . I’ll do anything, just---your dick.  _ Give  _ it to me. Pretty please?”

Lorenz was fairly certain that Claude wanted him to penetrate him anally, but  _ he _ wasn’t sure he was ready for that. However, Claude  _ had _ been rather adamant about sucking him off earlier and had yet to accomplish that, and Lorenz felt better about  _ that _ . 

“Fine, but I choose how to give it to you,” Lorenz said. 

Claude nodded emphatically, gratitude and curiosity in his expression. Something between relief and disappointment flickered in his eyes when Lorenz withdrew his hands and he watched as Lorenz crawled up the bed before bracing the hand that had been inside Claude on the top of the headboard and reaching down to tilt Claude’s head with his other hand. “Open your mouth.”

Claude did as asked, his eyes sliding shut as Lorenz maneuvered and guided himself until the tip of his erection rested on Claude’s parted lips. Claude’s tongue darted out to taste the head of his phallus, and Lorenz shivered at the warmth and wetness, then again when Claude moaned and placed his free hand on Lornez’s lower back and encouraged him forward with light pressure. Lorenz stopped when the tip of his phallus hit the back of Claude’s mouth and he had to  _ breathe _ through the sensations. It was unlike  _ anything _ he’d ever felt before, overwhelming. When Claude began to carefully lick and suck at him, Claude’s hand moving to stroke what didn’t fit in his mouth, Lorenz’s toes curled as unfamiliar pleasure washed through him. He instinctively thrust into Claude’s ministrations, and he was about to apologize, but Claude simply shifted to change their angle, allowing Lorenz’s thrust to slide past the back of Claude’s mouth and slightly down his throat. 

A whine of pleasure and surprise escaped Lorenz, and Claude  _ hummed _ , which sent waves of sensation through Lorenz. It was all so much, so  _ new _ , but even if he was mentally floundering in the face of the unfamiliar feelings, his body knew what it wanted. He distantly hoped he wasn’t hunting Claude as he chased his own pleasure, delighting in the slight texture differences between tongue and throat, the warmth and moisture, how Claude seemed to adjust himself to heighten the intensity of his experience. He couldn’t feel Claude’s free hand on him, so assumed that such meant Claude was tending to his own  _ need _ ; that was good, since he wasn’t sure where he’d be mentally once he found his completion and if he’d have the presence of mind to finish off Claude.

Claude abruptly moaned, the sound more a muffled gargle, but that was all it took to push Lorenz over the edge he’d been clinging to, his orgasm feeling like some kind of alchemical reaction that started in his stomach and exploded outward. A wild whim hit him and he pulled out of Claude’s mouth before he fully finished spending his seed, and there was something deliciously  _ filthy _ at seeing his seed on Claude’s tongue, lips, cheeks. Claude flinched in surprise, but didn’t seem...disgusted...as Lorenz pulled back entirely and sat down on his waist, straddling Claude.

Their labored breathing was the only sound in the room, and Lorenz hated how good he felt. He had...he had  _ marked _ Claude, left bruises on the delicate skin around his nipples and on the insides of his thighs. He had more-or-less fucked Claude’s mouth, came down his throat, yet  _ somehow _ managed to have enough left in him to  _ deliberately _ splatter some cum across Claude’s face. Claude somehow managed to look both like a wreck and deliriously content at once. 

“Are you okay?” Lorenz asked, his voice tremulous and uncertain. Certainly Claude  _ couldn’t _ be, but Claude had  _ encouraged _ him, had seemed pleased when he caved. Claude’s eyes fluttered open and a lazy, broad smile formed on his face. 

“That was fun,” Cladue said, his voice a little gravely. “You were a delicious breakfast. Think I can convince you that I need a hit of you each morning like you need your tea?” Claude asked as he wiped the cum off of his face with the fingers of his free hand and licked them clean. “Who knew the prim and proper Lorenz Hellman Gloucester could be so filthy? I love it.”

Lorenz groaned in embarrassment and covered his face with his hands. 

“I’m also  _ impressed _ that you can tie such a solid tie one-handed and without barely looking,” Claude said and shifted to undo the tie on his right hand. 

“It’s not a skill I’m particularly proud of,” Lorenz said and helped undo the tie.”You’re really okay?”

“Mmhm,” Claude hummed and stretched, his body tensing and arching under Lorenz, making Lorenz start to move, but Claude’s hands quickly went to Lorenz’s hips and kept him in place straddling his (Claude’s) waist as he settled again. “Listen, Lorenz. I’m not glass, you can handle me a bit roughly and I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but…” Lorenz said, his face flushing when it became apparent that he had left more than a few love-bites scattered across Claude’s torso that were just beginning to bruise. 

“Did you  _ not _ enjoy yourself?”

“No, I did, and that’s...that’s the problem? Was it right for me to enjoy myself while being so, so...ignoble? Base? Vulgar?”

“Hey, now, you were none of those,” Claude said. “I thought it was super sexy.”

“But I did…”

“Nothing I didn’t want you to do,” Claude interrupted. “And look! I’m perfectly healthy--not hurt at all. I’ve gotten worse bruises from my bowstring or sparring, and I  _ enjoyed _ getting these. I was  _ into _ everything you were doing and would have stopped you if I wasn’t.”

Lorenz squirmed and sighed. “A part of me says I was wrong to...to like what I did.”

“Look, it was news to me, too, that I would like just handing myself over to you,” Claude said, lightly stroking Lorenz’s thighs. “Normally I  _ hate _ people telling me what to do, hate feeling weak and helpless, but you constantly surprise me with how physically strong you are and there was something seductive in you being so assertive. Like, I think I hate people ordering me around because they’re usually just trying to manipulate me for their benefit and looking down on me. But, I suppose I knew you weren’t and I wanted to know...what not constantly thinking and second-guessing and planning would be like?” Claude’s face darkened a couple shades and he grumbled, “Wouldn’t’ve ever thought you’d managed to get me to  _ beg _ for your dick, though. I hope you know I didn’t want it in my  _ mouth _ , not after you  _ fingered _ me. And what the  _ hells _ did you touch inside me?”

“So, during my studies, I had to learn human anatomy, and there was a footnote in one of the research papers I had to read that indicated that stimulation of a certain area in some male subjects provoked a...favorable...reaction,” Lorenz said. “I found it odd, which is why I remembered it. I’m guessing I found that particular spot in you.”

“I was not prepared for that particular sensation,” Claude muttered. “It was good, don’t get me wrong. But,  _ damn _ . My dreams were bad before, now my libido is going to plague me with--”

“With?” Lorenz prompted, curious in spite of himself due to how dark Claude’s face became and how quickly he shut himself up. 

“Nothing,” Claude muttered. “It’s probably physically impossible anyway.”

A spike of panic went up Lorenz’s spine as he felt something pressing against his glutes, and he knelt off of Claude and turned to see Claude’s body was clearly preparing itself to go again. Lorenz heard Claude groan in embarrassment and swear softly in Almyran. Lorenz regarded Claude’s burgeoning erection for a  _ long _ moment, then strapped steel to his spine, sat back down on Claude’s torso and gradually scooted back until he could feel the hard, warm length pressing into his intergluteal cleft.

Claude  _ wheezed _ . “Lorenz?”

Lorenz swallowed hard as ancient, blurred memories screamed at him to pull away, that he was in danger, but--he had been scared of many things in his life that turned out to be silly or not scary in the least. This was to be another. He would conquer this fear, even if he wasn’t sure where it came from. “You mentioned an entire morning of debauchery, I believe. It’s still quite early, so I wouldn’t be able to get a bath without waking someone who is likely hungover or still drunk.” He hesitated again before saying, “I...yesterday, I found how regal and commanding you appeared arousing. I was wondering if, perhaps, you could command me to...do things? To you? For you? Don’t ask, or request. Order me. I...I think I would very much enjoy being of service to you.”

Claude stared at him for a long moment before he swallowed and said, “Lorenz.”

“Yes?”

Claude took a deep, steadying breath and his hands stilled on Lorenz’s thighs. “I want you to do to yourself what you did to me.”

“...pardon?”

“I want you to finger yourself,” Claude said. “That way you can go as slow as you need, and it won’t be someone else...penetrating you, but entirely yourself. So, perhaps, you won’t be as afraid and you’ll be in full control. If you can’t--”

“I probably can,” Lorenz said, suppressing the anxiety that came along with the suggestion--after all, if he was doing it, he wouldn’t hurt himself as he’d be in full control. “But I just don’t see how you’d find watching me pleasurable?” 

“Oh, my love,” Claude said and reached out to lightly tug on a stray strand of Lorenz’s hair. “You don’t know how you  _ look _ . It’s the same idea as when you walk by a bakery or high-end shop. You go to admire and lust after what is on display, and there is seduction and pleasure in the denial. Except I know that, one day, probably in the far future, I’ll be able to replace your fingers with my own, or with my tongue, or with my dick, and the anticipation is almost just as good.”

“So, that means all looking and no touching,” Lorenz said. “Can you manage that?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Claude responded with a lop-sided grin. “But, really, take your time. I’ve touched you, you’ve touched me, but you’ve never touched  _ yourself _ , right? Because it was Wrong and wasteful and thus not allowed. Well, I think it’s important that you find out for yourself what feels good to you because then you can help  _ me _ . So, I want you to lay here or sit here or whatever and explore your body and let me soak it all in. Understood, Count Gloucester?”

Lorenz hesitated, but nodded and shifted off of Claude, sitting next to him instead of on him. “Very well. I don’t think it’ll be interesting, but…”

Claude rolled away from where he had been half-pressed to the headboard and Lorenz reflexively took the exact same place, snuggling into the warmth and scent of Claude that was left behind. A quiet, clearly unintentional  _ aw _ escaped Claude, and Lorenz buried his face in his hands in embarrassment, which only made Claude  _ aw _ intentionally and louder and press kisses to Lorenz’s hands.

“I’m not sure how to  _ start _ ,” Lorenz said, his face burning. “Tell me what to do.”

Clade regarded him from his spot between Lorenz’s legs and nodded slightly. “Do you want me to blindfold you to make you less self-conscious?” 

“No,” Lorenz answered promptly. “I...no blindfolds. I want to be able to watch you watching me.”

Claude nodded solemnly. “Very well. Then...touch your favorite part of your body,” Claude ordered. 

Lorenz blinked.  _ Favorite part of my body? Do I...have such a preference? _

“Touch your shoulders, then,” Claude said when Lorenz hesitated for too long.

Lorenz promptly did as asked, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“Now touch your neck,” Claude said. “Keep your fingertips on your skin, you’re not allowed to remove your hands from your body now.”

Lorenz did as told, and it felt...weird, for the touch to be  _ deliberate _ . He used lotion, of course, but the way Claude’s eyes followed his fingers and how he was touching himself without any real  _ purpose _ made the self-caress feel...different.

“Gods, you’re gorgeous,” Claude breathed, longing lacing his words as he sat with his hands pointedly sandwiched between his thighs, but his gaze was a caress all its own. Lorenz half thought he would recoil in embarrassment, but the more Claude looked at him, the more  _ confident  _ he felt, which relaxed him. It became almost... _ fun _ ...touching himself and  _ experiencing _ those touches and then watching Cladue’s reactions to him. When Claude had been touching him, it had been overwhelming and because he had also been fighting his desires, the sensations had been slightly...muted. So deliberately searching out on his own body and under his own volition  _ where _ felt nice to touch, and how much pressure felt best was a fascinating exercise. That Claude was watching him like he was the most arresting thing in existence was  _ exceedingly  _ flattering, and he didn’t bother to keep himself from chuckling when Claude hurriedly, embarrassedly, wiped away a little bit of drool. Lorenz didn’t  _ expect _ to become aroused, but his body had other ideas, and his erection had returned fully by the time he reached his groin. 

Lorenz had expected some residual panic and fear, but his parents were under strict guard, the door was locked, and Claude was watching him like a starving man pressed up against the window of a restaurant, so the uncertainty and anxiety was smothered. Lorenz allowed himself to shiver and exhale a quiet moan as he ran his fingertip down his length, but paused as his fingers brushed past his scrotum and between his legs. He sat up more and extended his hand to Claude. 

“Let me use your seed for lubrication,” Lorenz said, his voice a low, growling purr. 

Claude gaped at him before he nodded, the motion jerky. Lorenz sat up further and Claude shifted forward at the same time, making them knock heads. After a moment’s stunned silence, they both started to giggle, which broke out into full laughter that was eventually muffled by giddy kisses.

“You’re serious?” Claude asked after pressing a kiss to Lorenz’s forehead in apology.

“Would I have asked if I were not?” Lorenz asked, losing a fight against a smile.

“Point,” Claude agreed with a matching smile. “Fine. This won’t take  _ too _ long.”

“No, it shouldn’t,” Lorenz agreed and dipped his head to begin to tend to Claude’s neck and ear with his lips while he kept his hands cupped in front of Claude’s resurgent erection. 

Claude groaned happily and supported himself partly by bracing one hand on Lorenz’s shoulder while stroking himself with the other. In barely any time, Claude shuddered and Lorenz felt Claude’s cum splatter on his waiting hands. Claude actually seemed a little concerned, however, in spite of how heavily he sat back down once he pulled away. “Will that really be enough lubrication? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“If it isn’t, then I’ll just ask to borrow your mouth,” Lorenz said with a slightly coy smile. 

Claude’s face darkened substantially and he said, his voice a little high and tight, “You mean you’d ask for me to spit in your hands, right? Not that you’d want me to, ah...lick you down there…?”

Lorenz felt his own face burn and he shook his head as he spread Claude’s cum along his fingers. “No, I don’t...would you really want to do such a thing? I keep myself clean, yes, but…”

“I mean, I  _ know _ it’s a thing that’s done and apparently it feels good?” Claude said. “Maybe one day if we’re feeling frisky right after a bath it’s something that can be explored.”

“Perhaps,” Lorenz hedged as his fingers searched for and eventually found his own anal sphincter. He kept his eyes trained on Claude, since how fixated and fascinated Claude appeared actually helped Lorenz relax; he was also very distantly curious if he would be able to experience the same sensation Claude had, and if it really was so overwhelming as he had made it seem. 

It took Claude starting a running, effusive positive commentary for him to fully relax enough to succeed in penetrating himself, and it felt...odd. To be both the one penetrating and penetrated, in a way. It stung a little bit and a wave of nausea crested over him from a combination of half-forgotten fear and anger, but he didn’t  _ hurt _ . He...he had a very faint memory of  _ agony _ , but he couldn’t quite place how or why or who he would have let anywhere near his genital area before. He breathed through the discomfort and pushed a little further in, and the more he grew accustomed to it  _ and _ proof that the experience wasn’t supposed to be white-hot pain and terror, the more...intrigued he became. He didn’t think he’d be able to let Claude inside him anytime soon, but the sensation certainly wasn’t  _ objectionable. _

He pulled his finger out, then slowly added a second. The sting was a bit worse and a new wave of unthinking  _ fear _ took his breath away, but Claude’s praises kept him afloat and once his body grew accustomed to the new finger, he began to do to himself what he had done to Claude, cautiously, slowly, methodically exploring a part of him that had  _ never _ been touched before, and which he would have never even  _ contemplated _ touching barely two weeks ago. He knew he had found that special spot in himself when he felt like he had been shocked while also feeling a distinct need to  _ pee _ . It felt weird and  _ good _ , and he caressed himself there with varying speed and pressure, trying to find out what felt  _ best _ . 

He thought he heard Claude make a strangled sound and opened eyes he hadn’t known he’d closed to see Claude watching him with something like  _ rapture _ . On a whim, Lorenz reached down with his free hand and began to stroke his freely-leaking erection, and the combination of the two types of sensation and Claude’s burning, consuming gaze sent Lorenz spiraling into an orgasm that left him stunned from the intensity of the  _ sensation _ . Lorenz was breathing heavily as he pulled his fingers out, his head spinning. 

_ Is this is why people like sex? _ Lorenz wondered almost groggily as he struggled to gather himself.

Claude watched him intently, then crawled close and began to carefully lick the semen that had splattered on Lorenz’ torso off, which made Lorenz voice a shuddering sigh. 

“That felt good, but I liked coming in you better,” Lorenz murmured.

Claude’s actions hitched so he could moan into Lorenz’s skin. “I rather liked feeling you come inside me, too, although it was delightful watching you pleasure yourself,” Claude responded. He finished cleaning off Lorenz’s torso, then stretched out beside him, resting one hand on Lorenz’s chest while propping his head in the palm of his other hand. “I love you, Lorenz.”

“I love you, too, Claude,” Lorenz said. “You make me...brave.”

“No, I encourage bad behavior,” Claude said and winked. “Think people will be aware enough now for us to request a bath?”

“There is actually a communal bath house if you are insinuating that I stink,” Lorenz drawled. “I just have all the fixtures here which is why I typically request my baths. Perhaps I should float the idea of updating the Manse’s plumbing to Portia; I’m sure she’ll appreciate it…”

“No, you don’t stink, I just know that you dislike being dirty,” Claude said with an easy smile. “And I think that’s a good idea, modernizing the plumbing. I’m just feeling lazy and a communal bathhouse sounds like a  _ walk _ away. I’ll ring the bell so you can blame me if they’re grumpy at us.”

“Pull on it four times--one long ring then three short pulls,” Lorenz said as Claude shimmied out of bed. “That’s the letter ‘b’, so they’ll know to bring a bath.”

“Also more rings to catch their attention,” Claude said as he meandered over to the cord. He did the pattern as described, then picked up the silk robe that had fallen on the ground. “Ah, good, it’s not dirty.”

“I told you that I’d never soil fine clothing,” Lorenz drawled and pulled the sash off the bedpost and tossed it over to Claude, who undid the knot in the sash and re-secured the robe. He still looked seductively regal, but also...comfortable. Somehow at peace, and the warmth in Claude’s smile made Lorenz’s heart flutter. “And you really are okay with...everything we did?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Claude said. “In fact, I have  _ ideas _ .”

“Ideas?” Lorenz asked from his seat on the mattress, swinging his body to place his feet on the floor. Doing that seemed to have dislodged  _ something _ , since he had the sudden, overwhelming need to defecate. He did not appreciate how hard Claude was laughing while he raced to his toilet across his suite; he managed to get there just in time before discovering that he was, as a slightly tipsy Dorothea had accused him once when they were out having dinner with Manuela and the other members of the Opera troupe, rather full of shit. The only saving grace was that it didn’t stink.

“I feel  _ lighter, _ ” Lorenz commented, bewildered, upon returning to the bedroom after finishing his business and properly cleaning himself. This, of course, prompted another round of hysterical giggles from Claude. Lorenz unlocked the door so his staff would be able to walk in and grabbed his usual robe from its spot on a clothes rack and slipped into it. Claude did a stellar octopus impression and cling-cuddled Lorenz once he had settled back to sitting on his mattress. 

The servants who eventually arrived after a surprisingly short time already had the water with them, so the code had worked. It wasn’t  _ hard _ to see the love-bite bruises on Claude’s torso, and Lorenz’s face flushed at the looks his staff exchanged and the titillated giggles that floated over to him; he wasn’t sure he liked how he and Claude were being assessed. 

“They’re probably trying to decide if you’re a very aggressive bottom or if you topped,” Claude whispered, clearly having noticed as well, and Lorenz buried his face in Claude’s hair in embarrassment. He had removed the diadem at some point, which was slightly disappointing, but understandable.

“I’m not used to having my sex life be a topic of  _ gossip _ ,” Lorenz grumbled into Claude’s hair. 

Claude chuckled and pressed a kiss to whatever skin he could reach. “Better to give them something to talk about than to force them to make things up. Control the narrative around your sex life.”

“Well, at least they won’t have  _ much _ to discuss since we won’t be here for too much longer…”

“True,” Claude agreed. “You’ll be coming home with me soon. That reminds me…”

“Yes?”

“Nothing you need worry about,” Claude said with a reassuring smile. 

“M’lords, your bath is ready,” one of the maids proclaimed before she left with the rest of the group. 

“Well, c’mon,” Claude said and finally disentangled himself. “They also cleaned out your chamberpot, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know.”

Lorenz coughed in embarrassment and followed Claude to the bath. 

After a leisurely, tame shared bath and small breakfast (which had been brought sometime during their bath), they changed into respectable clothing, then made their way to his study hand-in-hand; Lorenz was still a little dumbfounded with himself in spite of the time that had elapsed since he and Claude had been... _ intimate _ . He’d never imagined he would do  _ any _ of what he had, let alone that he would both do such acts and  _ enjoy _ them immensely. 

“Something bothering you, love?”

Lorenz looked to Claude, and shook his head. “No, not particularly.”

“Really?”

“I...did not expect to like intimacy with you as much as I do,” Lorenz grudgingly admitted.

Claude  _ beamed _ , then chuckled. “I enjoy being intimate with you, too.”

The rest of the walk was spent in comfortable silence, Claude’s thumb lightly stroking the skin of his hand the entire time. Lorenz’s study was slightly messy, but he imagined that came from Claude having to search for books he had been sent to fetch and then simply not bothering to put the ones he removed back. 

_ Oh. How am I going to choose what books to bring from my library? _ Lorenz thought, slightly sad at the thought that he’d have to leave so much of his personal collection behind. 

“I figure after this morning you deserve this,” Lorenz said and unlocked the second secret compartment to the desk in his study and pulled out a notebook. 

“Oh?” Claude asked. 

“It’s…” Lorenz sighed heavily. “My faltering attempts at erotic poetry and prose. None of them are in cipher because they are all  _ garbage _ . None are edited or polished because I wrote them just to get the feelings out of my head and had no intent on examining them too deeply. They range from when I was fifteen or so to the present, so you’ll find the quality varies widely. I’m sure you’ll get a good giggle out of them, though, so please feel free to read as I compile all the evidence against my parents.”

Claude plucked the notebook out of Lorenz’s hand almost gleefully and plopped himself on a couch in the sitting room, stretching out and opening promptly to the first page. Lorenz shook his head, his face burning, and he opened the third secret component, taking out the box that contained all the volatile, precious evidence he had collected. Letters, written and signed testimonies, receipts--everything that pointed to or corroborated wrongdoing were within. He set the box on top of his desk, then carefully opened the lid; everything was as he had left it. 

_ All that’s left it to keep it safe until the Knights arrive _ .

A pleased giggle escaped Claude, and Lorenz barely kept himself from groaning in dismay.  _ Should not have given that to him. _

Lorenz took out a few pieces of blank paper and began to go through the evidence, summarizing it so it was more easily digestible by whomever had the misfortune to be assigned to examine it. 

Some time later, a sound of  _ glee _ from Claude broke Lorenz’s concentration and made him look up just in time to see Claude get to his feet and walk over to the desk Lorenz sat at, and put the notebook down open to a page, his finger pointing to a particular sonnet Lorenz had written. The date on the poem identified it as from when they attended the Officer’s Academy. 

“How on  _ earth _ did you justify these to yourself?” Claude asked with a wide grin. He mock-fanned himself and said, “I was wrong to think you had ice in your veins when we were students together. Gods, if I had seen even one of these back then I would have felt  _ far _ less insane for wanting to know what the lip gloss you used tasted like.”

Lorenz groaned in displeasure and rubbed his temples. “I told you, I needed to exorcise the feelings, I wrote those precisely because there was no way to  _ justify _ the times when my obsession with you edged into more...carnal...territory. I tried to use the poetry as a way to play out what I  _ wanted _ and then bury it because the desires were ignoble, deviant, unworthy. I just had to find a suitable wife, I couldn’t harbor  _ lust  _ for another man.”

Lorenz reluctantly looked at the poem Claude’s finger rested upon and covered his face in embarrassment as he voiced a strangled, flustered sound. He  _ remembered _ writing that sonnet. His dreams had been violently sensual around that time, as it had been the first time he had ended up sharing the sauna with Claude. The male students in the Golden Deer House had done a combination dare/bonding-exercise of seeing who could last in the sauna the longest and he just could  _ not _ get the image of a sweaty, flushed Claude out of his head, his unconscious and libido providing ample scenarios as to how and why Claude might look like that around him. It had been  _ frustrating _ , and he had hated himself for how badly he had  _ wanted _ his words to be reality. 

“I saw you stopped writing erotic poetry, though. There’s nothing newer than five years old,” Claude said, his expression sobering. “Why?”

Lorenz hesitated, then sighed. “I didn’t know just how deeply...troubled...my family was until  _ after _ I assumed power. That was when I learned  _ all _ the dirty secrets, and...and I started to doubt whether or not it was even  _ worth _ continuing the Gloucester line. Did I really want to bring a woman into  _ my  _ family? Did I  _ really _ want to subject another person to my parents? Wouldn’t Fodlan be better off  _ without _ my family, given how much damage we have done throughout the centuries? It’s hard to feel, ah…aroused or motivated for a relationship or intimacy when you think…”

“That you’re not worthy of someone,” Claude finished when Lorenz struggled to find the right way to describe his complete lack of motivation the past few years. “Well, I hope to be able to contribute to this book some more again.”

“Why would I need to write down my fantasies when I could just ask you if you’d be willing to explore them with me?”

“Because you might be too embarrassed to actually  _ say _ what you want, but you can write it down and then shove this book at me and I can read and decide whether or not I’d be interested,” Claude said. “I’ll do the same. If I have some wild thing I want to try out with you but aren’t sure you’ll be into it, I’ll write it in here and you can read it and decide whether or not you want to explore it with me.”

Lorenz frowned and thought, his fingers stroking the paper thoughtfully. “I...I can’t see a reason not to do that. Sure. We...we’ll write each other erotic notes and decide whether or not it’s worth experimenting in reality.”

“Precisely,” Claude said with a bright smile. 

Claude took in a breath for a follow-up thought, but before he could speak again, there was a perfunctory knock at the door before it was opened brusquely; Catherine strode through, all stern business, before exasperation formed on her features. “Ah, sorry. I’m still not used to  _ you _ being Count Gloucester.”

“It’s fine. You’re here to arrest my father? You’re earlier than I anticipated. I don’t think the Fugitive Transfer form should have reached you, but Portia must have picked an exceptional messenger,” Lorenz asked as he stood from his desk. “Follow me. I’ll take you to him. To whom should I hand over the evidence of his wrongdoing?” He gestured to the box that sat on the ground next to the desk.

“Ah, this is in response to a different investigation that was opened into your father,” Catherine said. “But if you have additional evidence, we’ll be glad to take it.” Catherine gestured to one of the knights, who came and took possession of the box, closing its lid and holding it securely.

Lorenz caught a look pass between Claude and her, and that made him suspicious. Had Claude opened up a formal investigation into his (Lorenz’s) father while they were at Garreg Mach? Why would he? Out of a residual grudge from when he was Alliance leader? It was something to ask him later.

Lorenz led them through the halls and to his parents’ wing, his stomach flip-flopping in his abdomen. It was one thing to  _ say _ he was going to hand over his parents to the Church for judgement; it was another thing having the Knights at his back and knowing that he was going to bear witness to their arrest. He knocked on the door to his parents’ suite once before opening the door, stepping in, and saying, “You have visitors, Albany.”

Lorenz saw his father look up from reading something and the other man’s eyes narrowed as Catherine, Shamir, and the other Knights filed in behind Lorenz, Claude coming to stand next to Lorenz, intertwining their fingers. 

“Albany Iago Gloucester, you are hereby under arrest by the order of the Sovereign of the United Nation of Fodlan,” Catherine intoned, her voice cold and hard. “I suggest you come peacefully.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Albany demanded. 

“Where’s your mom?” Claude whispered as Catherine and Albany engaged in a tense tête-à-tête. 

“Possibly the bedroom, possibly her lab,” Lorenz murmured. 

It turned out to the bedroom, as she entered from that side room when the back-and-forth grew heated; the amount of makeup that Phebe was wearing said that his father hadn’t taken kindly to being confined under guard nor publicly shamed at the soirée. She clearly took a breath to speak, but she wasn’t a stupid woman, and quickly put together what she had initially missed, turning a hostile, accusatory glare on Lorenz. He met her ire with surprising calm and held her eyes until she looked away first.

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Phebe said smoothly, pitching her voice to be soothing. “If you’re here to arrest Count Gloucester, he’s behind you. My son is the Head of House now, and thus the one to be held responsible for the actions of all the other House members.”

“The arrest warrant is specifically for your husband--and yourself,” Shamir responded bluntly. “The charges against you are no less hefty than the ones against Albany.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Phebe said calmly.

Claude scoffed in derision, the sound accidentally loud enough to catch her attention.

“This is  _ your _ fault, isn’t it?” she demanded and raised her hand, but before she could cast any magic, Shamir had notched and loosed an arrow, the projectile threading the space between Phebe’s arm and face, a thin line of blood appearing on her cheek as the arrow embedded itself in the wall.

“Don’t try it,” Shamir warned. 

However, Albany had taken advantage of the distraction to also start casting a spell, and while Shamir was a fast shot, she wasn’t superhuman; Albany successfully cast a Wind spell with Claude as its intended target. 

It was only because Lorenz reflexively carried Thyrsus with him everywhere that he was stronger than his father--the former Count had a Major Crest, after all. He pulled Claude out of the path of the Wind spell and forcibly blocked it with a carefully-controlled surge of magic that was meant to disrupt the subtle flow of energy shaping the spell. He had learned the trick because he had been surrounded by magic-users who were orders of magnitude more powerful than him, but who were also fragile enough that if he managed to close distance he would be able to win in a physical contest. He and his father never sparred, so there was no way the man could have known of his skill. 

He was going to yell at his father, but had to diffuse two more Wind spells in quick succession. His spells didn’t have the range that Lorenz’s did but he was no slouch, his spells strong enough to shred the arrow sent his way by Shamir before it reached him. He was cornered, yes, but he wouldn’t be going quietly. 

Lorenz found that he was trembling slightly, but it wasn’t from fear. His father had never attacked him before directly, never looked at him with naked disgust and hatred, but he was doing both. He was looking at Lorenz as if he wasn’t...as if he was no better than a bug that had happened to land on him and he was just trying to figure out the most appropriate way to kill it. Lorenz’s breathing was growing ragged and gasping as fear of his father gave way to grief, then agony, which was quickly occluded by decades-old, long-denied  _ fury _ that burst shrieking from its mausoleum and swept away the last tattered remnants of his stubborn love for his father.

He understood, in that moment, what Dimitri may have felt when it became apparent what Edelgard’s role in so many different tragedies was. He mourned for his  _ own _ loss, but the world was crystalline, sharp, beautiful in its merciless cruelty when all one’s illusions were stripped away. He knew what he had to do.

The puppet Riegan had broken Albany’s leg--while an inconvenience, it was manageable. 

Lorenz would crush Albany’s pride, and that was something the man would never recover from. It would be worse than death for one such as him. 

“Lorenz?”

“Sh,” Lorenz hushed Claude as he let him go. “Stay. This might take a while.”

He made sure Thyrsus was securely threaded between his belt-loops, then plucked a lance out of the hands of one of the Church soldiers. He wasn’t as deft on foot, but he didn’t need to be. Albany was maimed, after all--this wouldn’t be a test of speed or dexterity, but it was so much easier to break bone with the metal-capped end of the lance than with his own body. He had never bothered to learn hand-to-hand combat.

“Lorenz, you’re not going to kill him, are you?” Claude said, halting his forward progress. 

“No, I won’t,” Lorenz said and shook his head. “Make sure my mother doesn't try to intervene, will you? She has some dark magic, and while she is not particularly good at using it, you should still be careful. Thank you.”

Lorenz lightly tugged his arm free, then broke the line of tense soldiery that had formed to protect him and Claude from future magical attacks. 

“Lorenz, what are you--” Catherine began, but Lorenz interrupted.

“I apologize, but let me deal with him. I will give him to you alive to face the Sovereign's judgement,” Lorenz said. He turned to his father and found, oddly, that he was smiling in spite of the tears that hazed his vision. “Albany. You really should have gone quietly.”

Albany was the stronger magician, but magic had limits to the number of times it could be used before it exhausted the user. Albany had already burned through, so to speak, most of his Wind spell charges, but he retained all the charges of Sagittae, Fimbulvetr, Blizzard, Cutting Gale, Excalibur, and Miasma Δ. He paid the Seiros Tenants fabulous lip-service, but had little true Faith, so had no healing abilities. Given that all he had the capability to do after his injury was recover and think, he had devoted a great deal of time to honing his skill with his magic and was naturally gifted, which accounted for much of his arrogance and how he kept on throwing low level spells as he tried to keep Lorenz at a distance that the lance couldn’t breech. 

Lorenz was oddly unconcerned and simply kept on dodging, darting in close enough to threaten and force Albany to expend all his lower-level spell charges. Lorenz honestly didn’t care if the Manse burned down, he’d just build a new one, free from horrible, cloying memories. Let Albany destroy the Count’s suite, he never wanted to live in it anyway. 

It wasn't hard to slip past his father’s guard just enough times to land light nicks that cut through his fine clothing and left thin lines of blood to trickle down pale, corpulent flesh. Higher-level spells were more draining and time-consuming to cast, and usually came with significant lead-up, but Lorenz wanted his father to have no options left to him, so Albany needed to be convinced that Lorenz was actually trying to hurt him. 

Lorenz allowed himself to be hit a few times just to keep his father invested in the battle and thinking that he might win, but Lorenz’s own charges of Restore and Heal were more than sufficient to keep him standing and strong. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t sparred with the other magicians in his House and learned what some of the more powerful spells felt like when struck by them, and  _ nothing _ hurt like Lysithea’s dark magic did, so it was almost...laughable. His whole life, he had been terrified of a man who could probably be brought to his knees by one of Lysithea’s  _ lower _ level spells. 

It was only when Albany reached for his magic and found nothing left that surprise--not fear, never fear--entered his eyes.

“How? How are you still standing?” he asked--well, more like he  _ wheezed _ . Magic exhaustion hurt--Lorenz had only dealt with it once, and that was when fighting Nemesis’ army. He couldn’t imagine the pain his father must be in. It was oddly delightful.

“The question is more, what are  _ you _ going to do now, Albany?” Lorenz asked as he circled his father leisurely. “You’ve destroyed your rooms and any hope of clemency.” A slow, languid smile spread on his face. “All you have to do now is  _ submit _ .”

With that, he darted in and used his lance to swipe his father’s unsteady stance out from under him, then rammed the butt of the lance into Albany’s diaphragm, causing him to dry heave and cough as the wind was knocked out of him and he curled on the floor in a reflexive protective position.

It was almost  _ pathetic. _

“Why was I afraid of you for so long?” Lorenz mused aloud to himself. “Doesn’t matter now, I suppose. Because I’m an honorable man and don’t like to hit a person when he’s down, even if he’s trash, I’ll give you this chance to surrender. Agree to go with the Knights peacefully and I’ll end your humiliation here.”

Albany coughed and glared at him, a mute rebuttal, so Lorenz swung the butt of the lance down on Albany’s good knee as hard as he could. Blood quickly stained his white stocking and color drained out of Albany’s face; otherwise, there was no reaction from the former Count. 

“Surrender,” Lorenz commanded, the tip of Lorenz’s lance pressing against the skin of Albany’s throat. “Lay on your back, hands at the level of your head. If you try anything while they are binding you, I will reconsider my decision to spare your miserable existence.”

“If you do not kill me, I will bring you down with me, I swear it,” Albany growled.

“We have been told that the sins of the father are not to be transferred to the son,” Catherine responded brusquely as she and Shamir approached with a small contingent of Knights. “You’ll also be hard-pressed to find anyone who will believe you over him, you slimy sack of shit.”

Lorenz smirked as his father clearly reached for one of his hidden daggers, but all of Lorenz’s strikes with his lance had been at places where the holsters were, so their locations had all been revealed to the more eagle-eyed Knights. Shamir was a faster shot than Lorenz was with his lance, and an arrow buried itself in Albany’s forearm, sinking deep into the wood beneath and pinning the appendage to the floor. 

“Don’t,” Shamir said firmly. 

“Ah, right,” Lorenz said and knelt down to pull all his father’s rings off his fingers; there was no need for someone to accidentally poison themself. Lorenz tucked the rings in his pocket, then assessed the damage him exhausting his father had done. Much of the furniture was in smithereens, the walls held gaping holes in them, and the suite was more or less non-livable, but Lorenz had no intention to move in and he doubted Portia would have chosen the Count’s suite to live in herself, so it wasn’t a major loss. “Was anyone else hurt?” he asked Shamir.

Shamir shook her head. “Thank you for warning Claude. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been prepared for your mother’s spells. As it is, she’s the one who has been shackled with the anti-magic restraints for now. It’ll take some time for your father to recover his spells, right?”

“He’ll need to rest, yes,” Lorenz confirmed. “Will you be heading out immediately or will you be staying to rest for a little? We likely have enough rooms to set up everyone for the day and night.”

“Probably not safe to stay here with how he tried to kill the King of Almyra and you,” Catherine said as she finished shackling Albany. “Damn, I was looking forward to a bed and good food. Oh, well.”

“We have a...special...dungeon,” Lorenz said. “It’s magic-proof and as long as we keep a guard they won’t be able to escape. I already sealed all the secret passages they may have used to escape previously. There is no need for you to feel discomfort on their behalf.”

“You have a  _ magic-proofed _ dungeon?” Catherine asked, her eyes narrowing in something between  _ impressed _ and  _ suspicious _ .

“Oh, yes,” Lorenz said. 

“How?”

“It was made long ago, so I’m not sure,” Lorenz said with a slight shrug. “I think it has something to do with the Agarthans’ dark magic, but I can’t be certain. Will we be making use of it? I’ll have my household prepare rooms for you and your knights while we cage my parents if we are.”

“No!” Albany protested and thrashed against the knights’ hold on him as they lifted him to his feet.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Lorenz said and slapped Albany across the face hard enough that Lorenz’s palm stung through his glove. “Retain some of your dignity.”

Albany stared at him, dazed.

Lorenz caught Catherine and Shamir exchange a look, and Catherine said, “They really won’t escape?”

“They will not escape without outside help,” Lorenz said. “Garreg Mach is also a bit of a trek, so you should let your horses at least rest.”

“Fine, we’ll make use of your dungeon,” Catherine said. “Lead on, Count Gloucester.”

Lorenz nodded and turned on his heel, leaving the decimated Count’s suite behind. He caught the attention of one of his household members and told them to prepare enough guest rooms for the knights, then took their procession out of his parents wing, made a few turns, then pressed a series of points on a random, seeming empty wall, and transferred the smallest charge of his magic to it. The sigil of the Crest of Gloucester glowed for the briefest of moments before the wall slid down into the floor. Lorenz heard his father’s struggles grow harder and couldn’t stop the small smirk that formed on his lips.

He pressed another magic trigger and the steps glowed as they descended, giving off the same light they had encountered in Shambala. He reached the bottom of the short, slightly curving flight and nicked his thumb with the dagger he kept in his boot, and smeared the blood on what seemed like a plain rock wall. The wall shimmered then seemed to reassemble itself into a solid metal door. Lorenz pushed it and it swung open without a single sound. He held it open and said, “We can technically put them in separate cells since there are three down here. I will have to stay here to keep the door open, but the cells are the same as you’d find in any jail.”

Two knights dragged a squirming, cursing Albany through the doorway, and a part of Lorenz thrilled at the full-body shudder that wracked Albany when he was tossed, still bound, into one of the cells. 

Magic- _ proof _ wasn’t really the right phrase for what the strange metal that formed the bars of the cells did. They cut the magician off from his or her magic, keeping it somehow out of reach, and for a family whose reputation was partially built on their magical prowess, having that particular skill out of reach was agonizing. 

Catherine had some training in magic, due to briefly considering augmenting her skills as a swordmaster with black magic to become a Mortal Savant, but her lack of patience for the more subtle arts had kept that from becoming a reality. She still gave him a  _ more _ suspicious look as she pushed Phebe into a separate cell, since she probably could feel the magic dampening-effects.

“There don’t seem to be locks, sir,” one of the knights said as he closed the sliding door to the cell. 

“Indeed,” Lorenz agreed. “Don’t worry, though. Now that you closed the door they won’t be able to escape.”

“You can’t leave us down here!” Phebe protested as the knights and Catherine walked out the door. 

“Why not? You left me here  _ alone _ , at least you have someone to speak with,” Lorenz said and let the door to cells swing shut. Once there was a soft click, the door seemed to vanish again, leaving them looking at what seemed to be a mere stone wall. “They’re going nowhere, but you can post a guard either at the top of the stairs or here if you wish.”

“We’ll post at the top,” Catherine said after taking stock of how  _ nervous _ the knights looked.

“Of course,” Lorenz said and gestured that they all precede him up the stairs. Once they were out, the door shot up from the floor and reconnected to the top, then faded into looking like nothing other than a normal wall.

“You two, stay here,” Catherine said, charging two seemingly random knights to guard duty. They exchanged a pained look, but saluted sharply and took up guard positions. 

“Your Grace, the rooms you wanted prepared are ready,” Desdemona said, catching their attention. From the pin that was on her apron, it seemed that Portia had promoted the woman. 

“Thank you Desdemona. I leave our guests in your care. Is my sister available for consultation? We need to discuss what to do with the ruins of the former Count’s suite.”

“She was exclaiming over the mess there when I saw her last,” Desdemona said, the smallest of smirks on her face. 

“Thank you,” Lorenz said and nodded. He turned to Catherine and the Knights and gave them a polite bow before gesturing to Desdemona and saying, “Desdemona is the head maid of my household. She will see to you that all your needs are met. Nowhere is off-limits to you, so please explore at your leisure if you so desire. The gardens are quite lovely. Now, if you’ll excuse me…?”

Lorenz wasn’t surprised when Claude followed him, although he  _ was _ surprised that he was silent for so long. They were nearly back to the Count’s suite when Claude finally spoke again.

“Your parents stuck you down there alone as punishment?”

“A few times,” Lorenz confirmed. “When I was being particularly...difficult, according to them. Whenever they threw me in that jail, they told me to  _ meditate _ , but the very metal used blocks access to one’s magic, so meditation is more or less impossible. I had nothing to focus on but my failures and shortcomings and how I could be a better and more worthy son. Perhaps this will give them the time to  _ meditate _ on how they could have been better people.” Lorenz paused, frowning slightly. “I wonder if they’ll commit suicide while imprisoned.”

“Regarding your father--I don’t think so,” Claude said after giving it some thought. “He’d want witnesses to his death, more than just your mother. Your mother might commit suicide, though.”

Lorenz sighed. “Let’s hope she doesn't. I dislike cleaning up bodies.”

“Hey, Lorenz?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for stopping the spells earlier,” Claude said. “It’s the second time you put yourself in harm’s way to help me, you know. Except this time I don’t think the wound is physical.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“...well, yes.”

“Don’t be. Everything will hit me later, but it looks like it’s going to storm soon.”

“Really? How can you tell?”

“I’ve lived in this valley my whole life,” Lorenz said with a small smile. “I know what she looks like when she’s winding up for a storm.”

“There’s going to be  _ rain _ on top of this?!” Portia exclaimed, gesturing through the open door that led to the Count’s suite, looking torn between a number of distinct, potent emotions. “How'd this even  _ happen _ ?”

“Albany and Phebe were arrested and Albany fought back,” Lorenz summarized. “I forced him to use all his spells. That’s where all the damage comes from.”

Portia sighed heavily and scratched her head. “Well, then. Let’s just trash what can’t be recovered and salvage what we can.”

Portia gave an ear-piercing whistle and it seemed like five random household members appeared from nothingness. Within a minute the suite was being gutted of anything that seemed remotely valuable or important, while the debris and too-damaged things were just tossed in a pile, apparently for Lorenz to set on fire at a later point in time. 

“Right now the priority is just to  _ collect _ . We’ll move all what we recover into a different, not-exposed-to-the-elements room and you can go through it at your leisure.”

“...you know, I’m not worried at all about leaving you in charge,” Lorenz said with a small smile.

“Nor should you be,” Portia said with a grin. “Everyone appreciated you letting them have the wine.”

“It was the least I could do after all their hard work,” Lorenz said. “I...I need some time to myself. Claude, you’re good at determining the importance of things, I’m sure you’ll find some more clues to my parents’ misdeeds amongst the debris, so could you please go through everything? I’ll be in the Solarium after I get myself some tea.”

He released Claude’s hand and felt colder for doing so, but he also  _ did _ need time to organize his thoughts. So much had changed in so little time-- _ he _ had changed. He needed to process.

He picked up everything necessary for Chamomile tea from the tea pantry as well as some discarded candle wax in the kitchen as unobtrusively as possible, and he managed to get in and out without engaging anyone. Admittedly, it seemed almost like people were  _ avoiding _ him deliberately, which was...a slightly worrisome development, but at the same time, he  _ had _ slapped his father and then tossed him in a secret jail, so...perhaps their caution wasn’t unwarranted.

The atmosphere was oppressive as he made his way to the solarium, the sky bruised with heavy clouds that seemed to skim the tops of the trees. It would storm, for certain. It was only a matter of time. 

The Solarium was blissfully empty when he arrived, and he set down his tea set with a sigh on one of the tables. Lorenz could hardly recognize himself anymore, and he had to wonder if it was a good thing or not. He poured himself a cup of the chamomile tea and settled himself comfortably in a chair in the solarium. Mr. Tubs, the Solarium’s dedicated ratter, sauntered over to him and meowed pointedly. Lorenz picked him up and placed him in his lap, running his fingers through his thick, black fur. He could see the approaching rain-front, lightning occasionally crawling across the clouds, rumbles of thunder accompanying them long after the fact. 

He knew he shouldn’t withdraw like he was, but he had  _ deliberately _ hurt his father, and had felt either mild pleasure or very little while doing so. His parents were going to be judged by the Church of Seiros and likely found wanting, so would face possible execution. A part of him wanted to be there for that event, to serve as a neutral witness to their passing in a hostile crowd--he couldn’t  _ hate _ them, even though he knew he had every right to--but he also didn’t think he could watch his parents die and  _ not _ be sent into a swift, downward spiral of second-guessing everything in his life. 

The thunder boomed closer.

“You probably are used to this, aren’t you?” Lorenz asked Mr. Tubs, who was purring hard enough to rattle Lorenz’s belt buckle. “Am I being unfair to Claude? He did go behind my back to open an investigation into my father. I imagine it was done with the best of intentions, and I don’t actually resent him, since I knew I would likely turn my own family in one day when they did something too egregious for me to overlook, but…”

Lorenz sighed and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling as the first few drops hit the glass ceiling. He took the wax he was keeping soft in his pockets out and put the balls in enough to mute the thunder. Being right under the lighting rod meant that he’d get hit with the sound immediately, and he wanted to keep his hearing. Mr. Tubs dug his head into Lorenz’s torso when the first lightning bolt hit, and Lorenz could feel the cat trembling, but finding comfort in Lorenz’s presence.

It was an odd feeling, something turning to  _ him _ for comfort. He watched as the rain fell harder and the percussion of the thunder as a bolt of lighting struck the solarium rattled his bones and shattered the walls of the sepulcher he kept his emotions carefully caged in. 

Most of the time when he visited the solarium to vent when younger, he had sobbed hard enough to give himself migraines, because a part of him knew that the treatment his parents subjected him to was cruel and unfair, knew deep in his soul that they didn’t actually  _ care _ about him. Somewhere in the past few days, however, it had become apparent that beneath the grief and fear was deep-seated, unthinking  _ rage _ . 

He delicately placed Mr. Tubs on the ground before getting up quickly enough to topple the chair. He couldn’t sit still with so much...so  _ much _ roiling inside him.

How  _ dare _ his parents treat him like he was only an extension of them and their aspirations. How  _ dare _ they demean him, humiliate him, neglect him when his entire existence was their fault in the first place! If they wanted a  _ doll _ , why birth a  _ child _ ? Why did they bring him into this world if all they were looking for was a golem, an unthinking, obedient machine like the metal monstrosities in Shambala? They didn’t deserve him! He had suffered for their pleasure, had twisted himself into pretzels for their amusement, had done everything in his power to make himself  _ perfect _ for them, but the goal posts never stayed the same. They took and used and consumed and then tossed him aside, and he had  _ let them _ because he knew no better. 

As he paced, the tortured wails of anguish that he had silenced when confronting the inescapable reality of his parents’ disregard escaped him and twisted into roars of enraged despair, drowned out by the thunder that rattled the windows of the solarium. A part of him hoped the Knights paraded his parents through every tiny hamlet along the road to Garreg Mach to shame his parents. He hoped there were survivors of his mother’s experiments and bastard children of his father and that they were given the opportunity to take out their grievances on the people who did them such harm. 

_ Let them bleed! Let them suffer! Let them wallow in humiliation! May they finally feel the weight of their sins as they await their trial! Let them despair, knowing that all that waits for them at Garreg Mach is disgrace or death! _

Memories of all the times he had curbed his impulse to fight back, all the times he had turned inward and hurt himself rather than hurt his parents, burst out of their graves and rampaged, swamping him with impotent bitterness and making him swear against the Goddess who would have given the gift of  _ children _ to such  _ monsters _ . Their manipulation and mind games had nearly had him deny himself the first good thing to ever happen to him because they had him convinced he was  _ undeserving _ . He wasn’t  _ perfect _ enough. Only if he was the  _ perfect Gloucester _ would he be worthy of affection, of love and consideration. 

Murky memories of rotten food, full-to-near-spilling chamber pots, dirty bathwater, and  _ pain _ when his parents were away and left him at the Manse alone as a child surfaced, and Lorenz  _ hated _ the people who thought that hurting a child was acceptable, and loathed those even more who were willing to profit from his pain. 

He hated himself for his weakness, for continuing to love and trust people who clearly thought him barely better than pond scum. He hated how much he had  _ tried _ , how much he had  _ ached _ for their affection, and how  _ stunted _ it left him. 

How could he ever forgive them?

How could he ever forgive  _ himself _ ?

By the time the lightning and thunder passed to a simple, soaking rain, Lorenz had been reduced to hoarse, hiccuping sobs and quiet desolation. He pulled the wax out of his ears and tossed it aside, Mr. Tubs jumping off a chair to chase after them and bat them around the building. 

Lorenz righted the chair he had knocked over, then sat down and picked up the cup of long-tepid tea and drained the cup to soothe his wrecked throat, knowing that he’d be regretting his emotional outburst later, at least physically. He felt...better, at least internally. Like he could face the future and not pull along the ghosts of regret and missed opportunities with him. He still had his whole life ahead of him, an entirely new chapter in a foreign land with a fabulous man far better than he deserved. He was leaving Gloucester House in capable, forward-thinking hands, and his sister would have the full support of his friends and the Church as she continued the work of rewriting the narrative around their family. 

He poured himself another cup of tea and startled when he heard a heavy sigh; a fire spell immediately flared to life in his hand and he lit all the candles in the solarium with it. His shoulders tightened when the light revealed Claude sitting at one of the other tables.

“When did you arrive?” Lorenz asked, his voice scratchy and barely above a whisper. 

“Not long after the rain started,” Claude said. “I know you said to leave you be, but I couldn’t. It felt wrong, like I was abandoning you, and after the events of earlier…” Claude remained resolutely looking at his hands as he played with his gloves. “I know it was wrong of me to go behind your back and open an inquiry into your parents, but I just...I couldn’t let them get away with abusing you. Your father had evaded responsibility and consequences due to being the second-most-powerful man in the Alliance with a reputation for killing  _ inconveniences _ , but his current status no longer afforded him the power or prestige to escape his misdeeds, particularly when the request for inquiry was coming from someone with a higher position than him.”

“I’m not angry with  _ you _ ,” Lorenz croaked, then poured himself another cup of tea. 

Claude stood and brought his chair over to the table where Lorenz was sitting and plopped himself next to Lorenz. “I know.”

Lorenz hesitated, then reached over and put his hand on Claude’s thigh, and anxiety he hadn’t known he’d been holding onto melted away when Claude gave him a small smile and put his hand over Lorenz’s, intertwining their fingers. 

“You don’t think less of me?” Lorenz asked.

“For venting your emotions in a safe, private setting? Absolutely not,” Claude said, looking deeply incredulous. “Admittedly, I think it would be better for you to not have to resort to this kind of thing, but you seem...better?”

Lorenz nodded slightly and sipped his tea. “I’ve never been angry before.”

“Because you always thought you deserved the pain,” Claude said. “But no one  _ deserves  _ to be hurt.”

Lorenz sighed softly, then coughed and drank some more tea. 

“It really is an experience being in here during a thunderstorm,” Claude commented. “I’m glad I followed you--for more than one reason.”

Lorenz huffed a sigh and slouched down slightly in his chair. “You don’t hate me?”

“Why the hells would I hate you?” Claude said, baffled. “If anything, I’m perversely flattered.”

“...pardon?”

“It seemed like the last straw for you was when he directly attacked me,” Claude said and scooted his chair closer, clasping Lorenz’s hand between his and holding it close to his heart. “You were capable of weathering his abuse and hostility, but you wouldn’t tolerate it being turned against me. Knowing that you care for me so deeply that you’ll stand against someone you’ve both feared and loved your entire life is incredibly flattering.”

“I love you,” Lorenz said in a breathless rush. “I love you, Claude. You make me a better person. It terrifies me how deeply you impact me, but it’s freeing. Thank you for seducing me. I still can’t fathom why you continually choose me, what you’re getting out of this, but...thank you.”

Claude sighed with exasperated affection and said, “One day you’ll wake up and realize you were worthy of my love all along.”

“Perhaps,” Lorenz said. “The rain doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon. Do you want to try to make a run for the main building or do you want to stay out here?”

“I think you need some more chamomile tea and it’s easier to cuddle on your furniture than these,” Claude said and stood, tugging lightly on their still-conjoined hands. “Come, my heart. Will the teapot be okay out here?”

“I’ll likely get scolded for leaving it, but I’m not steady enough to carry it when it’s still raining fairly hard.”

“I’m sure your staff will let it slide this once,” Claude said with a mild note of dryness to his tone. “Come along.”

“Very well,” Lorenz agreed and stood. He released Claude’s hand before pulling him into a light hug, burying his face in Claude’s hair. Claude leaned into the embrace, nuzzled Lorenz’s neck, and relaxed into his body.

For a second time within the span of a few hours, someone was turning to Lorenz for comfort, and a part of him began to hope that, perhaps, he wasn’t as irredeemable as he imagined he was.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: No spicy stuff aside from inappropriate touches; in general, Lorenz's parents are their own content warning.
> 
> Now, a question for my readers: would you be interested in reading the Almyran arc of this story? I had always intended to write all the way through their journeys in Almyra, but that takes us deep into "non-canon, lots of OCs" territory and I am unsure if people would find that compelling enough to read. Please do let me know if you'd be interested in reading their adventures in Almyra, or if it would be better if I just ended with them departing Fodlan's Locket.
> 
> Also, I use somewhat of a modified poem I discovered on the internet, but am a bad person and forgot to bookmark it. The * is where the words aren't entirely sprung straight from my own brain.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading/commenting/kudo-ing/bookmarking/whatever and FE:3H still doesn't belong to me.

“ You didn’t sleep much last night,” Claude observed sleepily as Lorenz ran his fingers lightly through Claude’s luxurious hair. 

“I got some sleep, don’t worry,” Lorenz half-lied. He was pretty sure he had dozed occasionally, but random spikes of fear constantly brought him back to wakefulness. 

“Probably not in the mood to be frisky then,” Claude grumbled and wedged himself under Lorenz’s chin, intertwining their limbs so the point of basically-clinging. 

“Not particularly,” Lorenz admitted. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No apology needed, and I never was woken for long,” Claude mumbled into his chest. “You petting me puts me to sleep. I like that you touch me for comfort.”

“You are a miracle,” Lorenz answered and pressed a kiss to what part of Claude he could get access to. Claude chuckled and nuzzled Lorenz’s chest before settling.

“So what now?” Claude asked around a yawn.

“Hm,” Lorenz said, then thought. “Well, I have to send out thank-you notes to all who attended the party, and I’ll also use them to drive home that my sister is in control of Gloucester Territory now and that Marianne is the Alliance leader. I want to find out if Marianne needs anything else, then set up tutors and advisors for Portia. After that, I need to poll my household for whom would be willing to come with me to Almyra, and then start packing what is easily carried and then set up shipments to the Locket for what isn’t. I have to...I have to comb through my life and pick and choose what is worth bringing with me to Almyra and what is better left behind.”

“Part of me wants you to just leave everything behind,” Claude said. “So you can start  _ anew _ . You know I’ll give you everything you could want plus a little extra because I like how you blush ever-so-slightly when you get a gift you really appreciate.”

“Do I really blush?”

“Every time you look at the cufflinks you smile and go a little pink,” Claude said, then sighed longingly. “I want to buy you a whole wardrobe of clothes perfectly tailored to you and your style, made of the finest fabrics. Flirt with you as the tailor takes your measurements, and get yelled at because the measurements for your crotch area will be off because I’m being  _ inappropriate _ .”

Lorenz felt his face warm and he chuckled. “You think I have that little self-control?”

“Oh, I like to think I can arouse you more easily than I actually do,” Claude said and stretched while still keeping as close as possible, his skin sliding against Lorenz’s and making him (Lorenz) suppress a shiver. 

“Will you really still flirt with me when we’re in Almyra?” Lorenz asked. “You said you’re letting yourself be more relaxed and juvenile since no one is watching and judging you here, but when we return to your home country, you’ll have to be a king again...”

Claude sighed heavily. “I...you know what? Fuck it. Yes, I’ll still flirt with you. Maybe less overtly--I’m going to miss sitting in your lap--but I’ll still flirt with you.”

“I am...oddly relieved,” Lorenz sighed. “Although i will miss kissing you if i am going to be disguising myself for ease of travel.”

Claude made a distressed sound. “No, I don't want to not be able to kiss you. You’ve gotten so much better so quickly.”

“You really think so?”

“Oh, definitely,” Claude said. “You’re a very fast learner.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said, his face warming a little bit more. “What are acceptable displays of affection in Almyra?”

“Depends on where you are, really,” Claude sighed. “Almyrans are generally tactile people, however, so hugs and holding hands are widely accepted.”

“So, in all honesty, the only thing that is going to change is that you can’t drape yourself over me and curl up in my lap,” Lorenz said. “You seem to enjoy the interplay of denial and reward, so while you might have to give up kissing me during the day, imagine how much fun you’ll have undressing me each night and making up for time lost.”

Claude hummed happily and squirmed slightly after that. “True. Ugh, I just  _ hate _ that I still haven’t figured out a good way to tell Mom that you’re a fixture in my life now and that you’re nothing like your father.”

“You’re not worried about your dad?”

“Nah, he’s the one who gave me advice on, er, intimacy between men since he was known to play the entire field and then some before he met Mom. Apparently it distressed grams and gramps to no end. Knowing him, he’ll just give me some shit about you being taller than me.”

“You really think so?”

“I’m on the shorter side for an Almyran royal male,” Claude said. “I think my father might have some height on  _ you _ , although not much.”

“Is he as tall as Dedue?” Lorenz asked, remembering how only Raphael and Dedue had height on him during their days at the Academy. 

“Not quite?” Claude offered.

“Well, I’ll find out soon enough and we still have time to strategize ways to introduce me to your mother,” Lorenz said. “I admit to being apprehensive about having my parents still in the Manse when my father directly tried to kill you and my mother is his perfect co-conspirator.”

“You don’t think your parents escaped, do you?” Claude asked, perversely holding onto Lorenz even tighter.

“No,” Lorenz answered with certainty. “Since I re-keyed the lock on the door to respond only to my blood, even if they get out of the cells--which they won’t--no one would be able to open that door. I could let them die down there if I wanted to and no one would ever find their corpses.”

“Yikes.”

“...sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Claude sighed. “They’d kinda deserve it if you did that, but I’m guessing you’re more interested in them being publicly humiliated than having them waste away in secrecy.”

“...well,  _ I mean _ …I just want them to face the consequences of their actions. I’m not big on justice like Petra, Ashe, or Ingrid, but I think the correct procedure should be followed and will accept whatever judgment is rendered. My desire to see them publicly squirm is secondary.”

“Oh,  _ sure _ ,” Claude drawled. “Seems like you have a busy day ahead, though. How about we start going through your clothes and pick out the ones you want to bring with you to Almyra?”

It was much more pleasurable thinking about the future, so Lorenz retrieved his luggage and they began to go through his drawers after unlocking the door so Desdemona would be able to come in with his morning tea. Claude had a strange  _ compulsion _ to try on pieces of Lorenz’s clothing that he liked, but the pants always ended up never fitting over his thighs while the shirts always bunched up around his upper arms and so never came close to buttoning. 

“You’re more muscular than I am, my love,” Lorenz chuckled as he folded the shirt Claude had most recently attempted to wear. 

Claude looked  _ exceedingly _ put out. “I  _ will _ find something of yours I can wear and then you’re never getting it back.”

“Of course,” Lorenz said in as soothing a voice as he could manage while trying not to laugh. “You found my sleep-pants fit you.”

“But I can’t wear your sleep pants out and about,” Claude whined. “I want to be able to wear a piece of your clothing under mine like a, a, good luck talisman.”

Desdemona brought their tea in time to be recruited to help remove a rather sullen Claude from being stuck in one of Lorenz’s jackets, who proceeded to then flop and pout on one of the overstuffed chairs and refuse to be useful until Lorenz and Desdemona stopped  _ laughing _ . 

“I mean no disrespect, Your Majesty,” Desdemona gasped as she leaned slightly on Lorenz, who had managed to get the hiccups. “It’s just... _ cute _ and I was not expecting  _ cute _ out of you two. What are you doing anyway?”

“I’m trying to figure out what I should bring with me to Almyra,” Lorenz said. “Ah, right. Could you poll the staff to see if there are three or four people willing to attend to me in Almyra? They’ll have to be rather thick-skinned since Fodlanese aren’t looked upon terribly kindly.”

“Very well, Your Grace,” Desdemona said.

“Also, could you arrange a communal breakfast? With the Knights present here in force and our other guests, it isn’t feasible to deliver breakfast to individual rooms and the Knights are used to communal dining anyway.”

“Yorik will be relieved to hear that,” Desdemona said with a small smile. “You’ll be joining everyone for breakfast, then?”

“I apologize for being...withdrawn...yesterday and for sequestering Claude with me.”

“No, I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for  _ you  _ to arrest them, let alone  _ fight _ them,” Desdemona said, her expression serious. “You withdrawing was understood. It’s not like Tia--er, Her Grace--didn’t have everything under complete control anyway.”

“True,” Lorenz said with a wry smile. “Please send someone to retrieve us for breakfast. Thank you for the tea and for helping extract Claude from his...misadventure.”

Claude was exceedingly regal and mature and blew a displeased raspberry in their general direction. Desdemona broke into giggles and curtseyed her acknowledgement before leaving, closing the door behind her. 

“It’s very rude to laugh at my misfortune,” Claude grumbled and Lorenz walked over to him before resting one knee next to Claude’s thigh and his hands on either side of Claude’s head, lightly gripping the top of the chair, effectively caging Claude in. Claude’s grumbles promptly dwindled into an audible swallow as his face darkened. “Um. Yes?”

“How are you attractive even when acting like a brat?” Lorenz asked and leaned in. “I love that you want to carry a piece of me with you everywhere, but I think our builds are just a little too different for you to fit into anything but my loosest clothing--like the robe I gifted you. You have only one piercing, correct? And I imagine it has some sort of cultural significance?”

“It does,” Claude said, his fingers brushing against his ear before he reached out and took a firm hold on the knot holding Lorenz’s sash closed and used it to pull Lorenz into straddling him. “Feeling frisky seeing me trying to wear your clothes?”

“Not particularly--I just like seeing you blush,” Lorenz said. “However, you did mention previously that you would like to have a, ah, hit of me before your breakfast, so why don’t we find out if I can drink tea without spilling any while you avail yourself of me?” 

Claude’s eyebrows snapped up and he clearly unconsciously licked his lips. “Sounds  _ wonderful _ to me. We have to switch positions, though.”

“That and I need to make my tea,” Lorenz agreed. “But, first…” he leaned in and caught Claude in a gentle kiss, and the last remnants of annoyance faded from Claude’s posture as he melted into the contact. 

When the kiss broke, Claude voiced a pleased hum and said, “Now, go prepare your tea. Remember, if you spill any, you’ll likely get the hot liquid on  _ me _ , and you don’t want to burn me, do you?”

“Never,” Lorenz said, struggling to not smile. A part of him knew he should be worried and concerned with a thousand other things, all of which were much more important than exploring intimacy and pleasure with Claude, but his kisses and touches and taste were  _ addictive _ and seemed to have unshackled something within Lorenz now that he knew that pleasure was more than just the absence of pain. That Claude seemed to  _ ache _ for the intimacy made it easy to cave. 

He moved off of Claude, who had undone the tie at some point, so his robe now flapped open as he walked, and he couldn’t help the fond sigh at Claude’s conspiratorial snicker. Lorenz poured himself a fairly full cup of his breakfast tea, sat down in his favorite chair, and gave Claude a significant look. “Will you need me to return the favor once you’ve brought me to completion?”

“You can if you want to, but you don’t have to use your mouth,” Claude said as he sauntered over. “I don’t want you choking or reflexively throwing up because you try to imitate something I do, because if  _ I _ can do it, then surely  _ you _ need to be able to do it just as well if not better. Right, Count Gloucester?”

Lorenz snorted and took a sip of his tea. “You know me well.”

“I know your competitive streak,” Claude semi-teased as he knelt down and nudged Lorenz’s knees open so he could rest his head on the inside of one thigh and lightly stroke the sensitive, delicate skin on the opposite thigh. Lorenz reached down and began to gently run his fingers through Claude’s hair as he idly sipped his tea. Claude reflexively leaned into the touch, caught himself, then chuckled and pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s leg. 

“Is it really seemly for you to sit at my feet so?” Lorenz asked, unable to stop a blush. 

“No one else is here and you make me feel safe,” Claude responded. “Damnit, I actually like this better. You give good scalp massages.”

Lorenz chuckled and set down his teacup to pour one for Claude, then passed it carefully down to him with a saucer. Claude took it from him with a murmured thanks and sipped his tea as Lorenz continued to semi-pet/semi-massage his (Claude’s) head. The silence that draped around them was comfortable and lasted until they were both finished their tea, wherein Claude let out a heavy, content-sounding sigh. 

“Claude?” Lorenz asked, still slightly concerned. 

“I just can’t believe that I have this,” Claude said, his voice wry. “In spite of the realities, having you surrounding me makes me feel...untouchable. I love you, Lorenz.”

“I love you, too, Claude,” Lorenz murmured and bent down so he could gather Claude in his arms; together, they moved Claude onto his (Lorenz’s) lap, and Cladue promptly turned into Lorenz’s body, looping one arm loosely around Lorenz’s neck, the other around his waist. “Which do you prefer, by the way?”

“Hm?”

“Claude or Khalid? Which do you prefer?”

“They’re both my name, and I don’t really have a  _ preference, _ ” Claude said. “Khalid is my given Almyran name, Claude is my middle name, Fodlanese in honor of my great-grandfather. Before I came to Fodlan only my mother would use  _ Claude _ when she was chastising me, so it took a little bit to get used to people calling me Claude. I...when we get back to Almyra, you’ll have to use Khalid in public, but I’m Claude in private, okay?”

“Of course,” Lorenz responded and pressed a kiss to Claude’s temple. Soft silence fell around them again, and Lorenz felt... _ strong _ having Claude curled up in his arms. 

_ Someone trusts me to protect them, _ Lorenz thought and pressed another kiss to Claude’s head.  _ Someone believes in me. I...can make them feel safe and happy.  _

Lorenz was actually feeling a little drowsy as Claude’s weight and body heat was soothing, but a knock on the door woke him. Desdemona stuck her head in and let out a tiny, fond  _ eee  _ upon seeing them. She composed herself, then curtseyed and said, “Breakfast should be ready in about fifteen minutes, so if m’lords could make your way to the great hall? It was the only place large enough to accommodate all your guests.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said as Claude stretched. Lorenz couldn’t quite help himself and ran his fingertips down Claude’s midline , which made the man flinch, laugh, and curl inward. Desdemona clearly swallowed a laugh of her own as she picked up the tea tray and beat a quick retreat. 

“Come, my love,” Lorenz said. “Time to face the day.”

“I know, I know,” Claude grumbled in response and placed a kiss to Lorenz’s neck before shifting to standing and meandered to his bags to find acceptable clothing. Lorenz pulled on a set of clothes he planned to leave behind, exchanging the cufflinks. They left his mild disaster of a room behind and Lorenz guided them to the same place they had held the party; it already sounded as lively as the dining hall at Garreg Mach, and Lorenz smiled faintly. It was so odd for the normally sedate, sterile halls to be echoing with so much life and activity. 

_ I hope that that changes, _ Lorenz thought as he pushed open the door for Claude.  _ I hope that, when I return to Fodlan next and visit Tia, that we will no longer be the House of monsters.  _

Ignatz waved Claude and Lorenz over to where he, Leonie, Catherine, Shamir, Marianne, and Hilda were also sitting, and they joined them.

“Did you enjoy your time here?” Lorenz asked as a servant placed a plate of food in front of him and Claude quickly and unobtrusively. 

“Your sister is a good hostess,” Shamir said, which was perhaps as high a compliment as Lorenz would ever get from the former-mercenary. 

“The beds were super comfy and the food is fantastic,” Catherine said around a mouthful of food. “Your household is very protective of you,” Catherine continued after swallowing, seemingly bemused.

“Are they now?” Lorenz said. “I have always tried to do my best by them.”

Lorenz saw Portia walk in and flagged her down. She strode on over and gave Lorenz, to his immense surprise, a kiss on the cheek before sitting down on the side opposite Claude.

_ Is this what it’s like to have family? _ Lorenz wondered idly as a plate appeared before Portia as well.

The breakfast conversation very pointedly avoided the topic of Lorenz’s parents until it was impossible to put it off anymore. 

“The guards reported a boring night,” Shamir said.

“My parents won’t be escaping those cells, don’t worry,” Lorenz said. “We will retrieve them once we’re done breakfast and you are ready to depart. Would you like an escort out of Gloucester territory?”

“We’ll be fine, but thanks,” Catherine said.

“What awaits them at Garreg Mach?” Lorenz asked softly. 

“Well, Seteth will review the evidence and send a formal report to Margrave Gautier, Margravine Edmund, and Duke Aegir with his recommendation. The Margravine, Margrave, and Duke will then make their recommendation to Sovereign Byleth, who will render final judgment. In all honesty, though, I don’t see them surviving.”

“I’ll recommend exile,” Marianne said. “Since I know that is what you’d prefer, Lorenz, and you’re the one who lived with them.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said sincerely.

“Um, I  _ read _ some of the evidence you handed over, there’s  _ no way _ that Sylvain or Ferdinand will let some of what they did slide,” Catherine said, deeply incredulous. 

“I’m not saying that they don’t deserve death,” Lorenz said. “Just that I can’t…”

“It’s alright, love,” Claude murmured softly and put his hand on Lorenz’s thigh. 

“Well, the day’s not getting any younger and I for one want to get back on the road,” Catherine said once they were all done with their food, and stood. “Could you help us retrieve them, Your Grace?”

“You should come, Tia,” Lorenz said. “You won’t be able to open the dungeon, but you should at least have a knowledge of its existence.”

“Right,” Portia responded and stood with the rest of them, the clanking of armor loud in the high-ceilinged room. 

Lorenz led them back to the location and opened the door, Claude holding on tightly to his hand until he had to use the necessary magic to reveal the dungeon. He descended the stairs, anxiety causing his mouth to go dry as dozens of awful scenarios rattled around in his head.

However, as Lorenz opened the door to the jail cells, the tension he’d been carrying drained out of him; both his mother and father were glaring at him balefully, alive. 

“I suppose I was afraid for nothing,” Lorenz said aloud. “I trust you had a  _ meditative _ experience down here? That you had plenty of time to  _ reflect _ on your  _ failings _ and  _ imperfections _ ?”

“Quiet, traitor,” Albany growled.

“To our House?” Lorenz asked, incredulous. “In your mind, perhaps.”

The Knights walked in and opened the doors one by one, first exchanging Albany’s normal shackles for magic-dampening ones since his magic had the night to recharge. He was uncooperative, but the knights were both stronger than him, so they simply dislocated his shoulders, exchanged the shackles, then popped his shoulders back in. They hoisted him to his feet and he nearly toppled over, falling hard against the bars.

“Oh, that’s  _ right _ , your knee needs to be healed, doesn’t it?” Lorenz asked. “Once we’re out of here I’ll fix it enough so you can walk. My apologies, but you’ll have to drag him out.”

Phebe didn’t fight the knights at all, merely following along meekly, her posture perfect, expression cold and serene. She never looked at Lorenz once after the initial glare she sent him; from what he could tell, she was acting as if he simply didn’t exist. Lorenz allowed the Knights and his parents out, then closed and locked the dungeon again before following them out into the hallway, where he sealed that door as well. Lorenz bent down and placed his hand on Albany’s knee, expending a charge of Restore to bring it back to more-or-less full functionality. It would creak and crack, most likely, but given Albany probably didn’t have many days left to live, creaky knees was probably the least of his problems.

In thanks for making sure he could at least move without pain for his remaining time, Albany spat in Lorenz’s face as he straightened. 

Lorenz was less than surprised when his father suddenly crumpled with a pained whine, given that doubling over had revealed a rather pissy-looking Claude who was lowering his foot. Every male knight was looking a little pale and more than one had reflexively covered his own privates.

“Damnit, you beat me to it,” Catherine said with vicious good humor while Lorenz took a handkerchief out of his pants and cleaned off the spit. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for  _ days _ ,” Claude growled, his eyes narrowed dangerously. His expression changed to concern the minute he looked at Lorenz, though. “You okay, love?”

“I’m sure he wishes he himself was truly venomous, but some spit is nothing but an annoyance,” Lorenz said as he tucked the handkerchief away. “Do you need any supplies for the trip back to the Monastery?”

Shamir spoke up: “We’ve already arranged all of that with the Countess. Thank you for your hospitality, but we should get going before one of these two seditionists try to cause any further trouble.”

“Of course. I will be stopping by Garreg Mach to pick up my security detail for my diplomatic post in Almyra, so I will likely see you in a few days. May Sothis protect you in your travels.”

“Thanks again for your hospitality,” Catherine said and bowed politely before walking briskly towards their stables, where Lorenz imagined their horses and whatnot were prepared for them. 

Lorenz sighed once the Knights of Seiros were out of sight, and startled slightly when Claude reached up and turned his (Lorenz’s) face to look at him (Claude).

“Yes?” Lorenz asked.

“How does it feel to finally be free of them?”

“Pardon?”

“You never have to deal with your parents again,” Claude said. “They’re no longer your burden, they won’t try to fuck things up for you or your sister, and are going to face judgment for the multitude of crimes they’ve committed. My love, you’re  _ free _ . What’s the first thing you'd like to do now that you’re no longer burdened by your family?”

Lorenz’s mouth moved on autopilot as he took Claude’s hands in his own, tugged Claude a little closer, and said: “Will you marry me, Claude von Riegan?”

Claude’s face promptly darkened a number of shades and he said, “Can I give a conditional-yes?”

“Oh?” Lorenz asked, not as worried as he felt he  _ should _ be. 

“I am  _ all _ for marrying you, just so you know,” Claude said. “But you really should meet my parents and get a feel for Almyra first. So, yes, I’ll marry you, but  _ only _ if you ask me again when we reach the Almyran capital and you’ve had time to get to know my people and family. Okay?”

“Very well,” Lorenz said, hating that Claude was being  _ reasonable _ , but seeing the value to such. 

“Oh, damnit. I would have loved to have your going-away party also serve as an engagement party,” Portia sighed and Lorenz startled, having forgotten that they technically had an audience. 

“Wait, you’re having a going-away party? For  _ me _ ?” Lorenz said, surprised enough to blush. 

“Of course!” Portia said. “Rosalind isn’t even salty about having to work hard to generate feast-worthy food so soon after the soiree.”

“When are you planning on holding the party?” Lorenz asked, feeling strangely overwhelmed.

“Tomorrow,” Portia said. “I also overheard Desdemona asking for volunteers to go with you to Almyra, and we’ll have a list of people for you. I imagine you’ll also need help packing?”

“Well, yes,” Lorenz said. “I did not think I was an indecisive man until I had to figure out what i wanted to bring with me to Almyra and what I could leave behind.”

“I already told him I’ll give him everything he needs and more,” Claude said when Portia looked at him with mild accusation. 

“You can leave the majority of your belongings here and we will keep them safe,” Portia said. “This will always be your home, brother. So please do visit from time to time.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said with a small, fond smile. “In that case, I will be prepared to leave in two days, so there is a great deal that must be done. Marianne?”

Marianne spoke up: “I think I’ve gotten as good a hand as possible on Alliance matters. That soiree let me meet quite a few nobles and merchants who filled me in on gossip and news as well, so if I need anything else, I’ll be in contact. Please focus on getting your Fodlanese affairs in order so you can head to Almyra without fear.”

“If you say so,” Lorenz responded. “Will you be staying for the party?”

Marianne shook her head slightly. “We shouldn’t. There’s plenty to do in my territory as well as dealing with the influx of Alliance inquiries--”

“And wedding planning!” Hilda added. “You’re going to invite us to yours, right?”

“As long as he asks again, you’re the first two names on the list,” Claude said, his face coloring slightly as he leaned into Lorenz’s body. 

“I see no reason why I won’t,” Lorenz murmured and pulled Claude closer, his arm going around his waist. “Do you need any supplies for the road?”

“Already taken care of,” Portia said. 

“And you have copies of all the information you may need to start?” Lorenz asked.

“I do, yes,” Marianne affirmed. “Leonie and Ignatz have left with the Knights to act as some additional security, but I think I overheard Leonie say that when you pick up the Knights for your own personal guard, that they will be going with you to Almyra.”

“Indeed,” Lorenz said. “Although I doubt they’ll stick with us all the way to the Almyran capital. Leonie will likely find mercenary work somewhere along the way, or Ignatz will find a particular landscape he’ll want to paint and study. Considering Caspar and Linhardt may also be joining us…”

“It will definitely be an interesting beginning to our journey,” Claude said wryly. 

“Well, let me thank you for taking on the responsibility of leading the Alliance and for suffering through my family for a few days,” Lorenz said and stepped forward towards the two women and extended his hand. “May you have an uneventful and safe journey back to your homes.”

Marianne took Lorenz’s hand then stepped into his body, giving him a gentle, hesitant hug. Lorenz reflexively froze for a millisecond before carefully hugging her back. When he released her, he gave her a smile and said, “I look forward to watching Fodlan flourish under your rule.”

“Don’t forget your friends and write plenty,” Marianne said and backed away.

Hilda was less sedate and hugged him more tightly. Lorenz couldn’t help but wheeze a laugh and hug her back just as tightly.

“You be good to Claude,” Hilda whispered in his ear. 

“I will,” Lorenz promised equally softly, vehemently. “I promise.”

Hilda let him go after that and then reached out for her fiancee’s hand. Marianne intertwined their fingers and together they, too, left. 

“A man might become suspicious that they’re leaving us alone so we can do  _ awful _ things to each other and they can feign ignorance,” Claude said  _ sotto voce _ . 

Lorenz coughed as Portia snickered, her face going bright pink. “We will be traveling with some of my household so you’ll still have to behave.”

“You mean I can’t ride double with you on Shadow and jerk you off?” Claude said with a wink and a licentious grin. 

“Goddess,” Lorenz groaned and rubbed his temples as Portia giggled. “No. Now, we--Portia and I--should retire to my study. There are plenty of letters to write before I begin packing in earnest.”

“Letters?” Portia asked. “And Claude can come, too.”

“As long as he promises to behave,” Lorenz said and Claude gave him the most  _ offended _ look, even if he was clearly struggling to not smirk. 

“Of course I’ll behave,” Claude said and stood on tip-toe to press a kiss to Lorenz’s cheek. 

“Is it just me, or does it feel like a pall has lifted now that our parents are no longer here?” Portia mused as they started walking towards Lorenz’s study. “Like, people always moved carefully knowing they might run into Albany or Phebe, but now that they’re gone…”

Lorenz sighed. “I knew they always caused friction, but tried to stand between them and my household as much as possible, although I know I was not often as successful as I would have liked.”

“You still did a really good job,” Portia said. “Everyone knew that they could come to you if they had an issue and you’d treat it seriously. I swear, I’ve heard  _ horror stories _ from staff who come from other noble houses. But the household here? They’re  _ proud _ to count you as their Master. Apparently a fight broke out over your honor in the tavern in the nearest town.”

Lorenz stared, mortified, while Claude snickered. “Really?”

“You have a way of winning people over by simply being…” Portia searched for the word before settling on, “Refreshingly forthright for a noble.”

“...pardon?”

“She just said you’re blunt,” Claude snickered.

“Well, I…” Lorenz wanted to argue the point, but wasn’t exactly sure if it was worth the argument. He had learned to treat commoners as if they were capable, merely born into a different class, and that some were kinder, wiser, and stronger than any noble due to his experiences at the Monastery and during the war. If that made him, perhaps, lose some of his subtlety...well, he would blame that on Leonie and Raphael.

“It’s okay,” Claude said and lightly squeezed Lorenz’s fingers. “It’s part of your charm. For being from a family of vipers, you’ve always been surprisingly guileless.”

“I was told it was a failing that I could never lie well,” Lorenz said and opened the door to his study.

They cleared some space at the large, round table in the center for them all, and after retrieving ink, quills, and plenty of envelopes and parchment, Lorenz began to describe all the minute, annoying traditions surrounding thank-yous, then reached out to the scholars he had corresponded with off and on throughout his life for recommendations for tutors, and began to instruct Portia on the rather convoluted, sordid history of their House, among other things, as he wrote brief letters to his friends and comrades, explaining the situation with his sister more informally and in greater detail.

Claude was equally fascinated by House Gloucester’s misdeeds and schemes, and Lorenz didn’t mind laying out all the House secrets, since Claude  _ lived _ for secrets, and it wasn’t as if he’d tell anyone. 

“Where do you wish to live?” Lorenz asked as he finished signing and sealing the letters to the potential-tutors. “I suppose you can rebuild the Count’s Suite to your specifications and install modern plumbing if you’d like, but you’ll need temporary housing.”

“I’m fine living in my old quarters for now, but...I think I will rebuild the suite to something new and better,” Portia said. “Reclaim it in a way, y’know?”

Lorenz nodded. “I’ll give you the names of all the craftspeople I employed when I had this study built. I can vouch for their skill and reliability--and their willingness to work with the Gloucesters.”

Portia smiled wryly. “I’m gonna run into that a lot, won’t I?”

“You get used to being treated like a venomous creature eventually,” Lorenz said with a shrug and pulled another piece of paper to him, writing down what he remembered of the craftspeople he had employed. “Now, do  _ you _ have any questions for me regarding Gloucester territory? You ran the household but not the territory itself, and it comes with its unique challenges.”

Portia paused, then said, “I guess just start with where we get all our money from.”

After lunch, Claude convinced Lorenz to transfer from a chair to one of the couches, and then promptly fell asleep on him as Lorenz petted him and continued to instruct Portia in matters pertaining to House Gloucester and their territory. She looked a little disturbed by how deep House Gloucester's ties to the underworld were, but agreed to keep paying the assassins off and thus ensure the safety of the current high nobility. By the time dinner rolled around, she was rubbing her temples and looking rather strained. Claude had woken, but refused to move from lounging indolently on Lorenz’s body. 

“We should stop anyway,” Lorenz said with a sympathetic smile. “I’m giving you the crash course in something I had thirty-plus years to learn. Please, lean on my friends. In particular, my comrade Ashe is now Lord Gaspar, and he was once a commoner himself. He might have the perspective that you’d find most useful. I should also--”

“Doesn't your hand hurt?” Claude asked and picked the quill out of Lorenz’s hand before taking Lorenz’s hand in his and beginning to gently massage it. “You’ve done enough writing for one day.” Portia had moved a side-table closer to Lorenz at some point so he could continue to work and write with Claude being  _ uncooperative _ . 

“I agree,” Portia said and exhaled heavily as she stretched. “How do you do so much writing without pain?”

“I suppose it’s because I’ve been writing poetry since I was very young,” Lorenz said with a small smile. The truth was that he had been forced to copy an entire law textbook by hand, word-for-word, as punishment more than once, so had learned proper body mechanics to write for extended periods of time.

“Do I have to learn how to write poetry?” Portia asked, actually sounding a little concerned.

“Not unless you want to,” Lorenz said with an easy smile. “That is not part of a noble’s education, merely something I picked up.” 

Portia sighed in relief, which caused Lorenz to chuckle. “Thank the goddess. I tried to write poetry once for a crush and he took one look at it and then threw it in the blacksmith’s furnace. It must have been awful.”

“Or he just had exceedingly poor taste,” Lorenz said, miffed on his sister’s behalf. Some of the emotion must have crept into his tone, since Portia smiled and reached over to gently pat Lorenz’s cheek. 

“Oh, it’s been years since I thought of that jackass, don’t worry your pretty head about him,” she said. Her smile grew wider and she laughed softly. 

“Tia?”

“It just dawned on me that I have a  _ brother _ ,” she said, her voice warm. “Just...why were--are--you okay with accepting me as your elder sister?”

“Because there are records of the births of all my older sisters in the family lineage and...I was a very lonely child. I like the idea of family a great deal, even if I don’t know what that means. It is a little sad that I will be leaving you so soon after having just gained a sister.”

“That’s why we have to write a ton! It’ll also get people used to correspondence between Fodlan and Almyra, and that’s important if we want to continue to break down walls, right, Your Majesty?”

“Absolutely,” Claude agreed.

“Will you be having dinner with me? Us?” Lorenz asked. “It might be good to get you acclimated to formal dining…”

“I think that if I take up any more of your time, your not-quite-fiance will leave worms in my bed,” Portia chuckled. “The weather is pleasant tonight. Why don’t we set up a dinner for you in the Rose Garden? We have some candles that should keep the bugs away.”

Lorenz shuddered. He hated bugs--particularly centipedes, or any of the others with more legs than strictly necessary. “It does sound quite romantic…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll kill any bug that dare tries to take a nip of you,” Claude said and nuzzled Lorenz’s neck. “I’m very good at taking care of such things. My father is terrified of them and mom hates cleaning up after killing them, so I was always the one in our household to kill any critters or escort them safely out of our rooms.”

Lorenz snorted, then pressed a kiss to Claude’s head. “So strong and brave.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“You two are sickening,” Portia sighed affectionately. “Tomorrow you’ll be busy packing all day and we’ll have the household picked out for you for your journey. So, enjoy a dinner under moonlight and among the roses. Goddess, it sounds like something out of a novel.”

“Think I could convince you--” Claude started, but Lorenz interrupted with: “You would be in no state to kill bugs for me if we were to make love.”

Portia cackled at that. “Only the finest of silk sheets for my baby brother, huh?”

“Can you imagine being in the middle of the throes of passion and then suddenly  _ something _ is crawling up your leg with too many legs and waving antane?” Lorenz posited and shuddered again while Claude dissolved into snickers.

“I’ll have someone get you when your dinner is more-or-less ready,” Portia said. She hesitated for a second, then reached out and ruffled Lorenz’s hair affectionately; Lorenz wasn’t quite sure how to react to that, so just stared at her in bewilderment until she blushed and left in an embarrassed hurry.

“You’ll never stop being awkward, will you?”

“Quiet,” Lorenz pseudo-scolded. 

“Make me,” Claude said with a grin. 

Lorenz was never one to back down from a dare or disobey a direct order, so shifted until he could comfortably tilt Claude’s head back into a kiss. Claude voiced a happy hum when the kiss broke. 

“What are Almyran engagement traditions?” Lorenz asked as Claude turned in his arms so he could straddle his (Lorenz’s) lap comfortably and rest his forearms on Lorenz’s shoulders. 

“We have done far too much talking today,” Claude said in response. “I’ll explain over dinner, if you really want to know.”

Lorenz put on his best ‘puzzled’ expression and said, “Are you suggesting that you’re getting tired of my voice?”

“No, just that there are better things to put your mouth to use doing,” Claude responded tartly before leaning in and catching his lips in another kiss. It was impossible to keep his hands off Claude, and he undid Claude’s sash so he could slip his hands underneath Claude’s jacket and shirt to caress the warm skin hidden under the layers of cloth. Claude’s body instinctively leaned into the touch and he deepened the kiss in response, twining his fingers in Lorenz’s hair and pressing him a little more firmly into the cushions of the couch. 

“Is that all you’d like me to do with my mouth?” Lorenz panted when the kiss broke. “I always thought you were more...creative.”

“ _ You _ are the one who has been more  _ creative  _ than I ever anticipated,” Claude semi-growled, and ground their hips together, sending a spike of pleasure up Lorenz’s spine and making him shiver and exhale sharply. “You sure you’ve only read a  _ few _ romance novels?”

“Maybe more than a few,” Lorenz admitted as his hands continued to trace the musculature of Claude’s back.

Claude eventually just pulled off his jacket and shirt and tossed them onto a nearby chair before dragging Lorenz back into another kiss. 

_ I will never get tired of touching him, _ Lorenz thought hazily and let himself be pushed back more until he was stretched out on the couch with Claude half-lying/half-supported over him. Lorenz found this wonderfully convenient, since it kept his hands free and allowed him to touch anywhere he wanted. He broke the kiss so he could nibble on Claude’s ear and tug lightly on the earring with his teeth, which never failed to make Claude groan. 

“It’s not fair that you know all the places on me that make it hard to think of anything besides you,” Claude panted and flinched when Lorenz palmed his (Claude’s) growing erection over his clothes. “Still haven’t managed to get you out of your head ye--” Claude’s words slurred into a garbled moan as Lorenz slid one of his hands under the waistband of Claude’s pants and ran his fingertips along his (Claude’s) shaft. Claude reflexively thrust forward; Lorenz’s heart-rate sped up in a bad way at the motion.

Lorenz suddenly, inexplicably no longer felt  _ safe _ . It was nonsensical to be abruptly afraid when he couldn’t even figure out what was provoking the fear. Thankfully, he had decades of experience wrangling his fear, so it was easily subdued and shoved aside for later, although Claude kissing him helped that substantially. He hadn’t understood what writers meant when they said a character was  _ drunk on kisses _ , but Claude was addictive and he felt inebriated on his taste, on the sensations, on his presence. He removed his hand from Claude’s pants so he could press Claude flush to him, his weight and warmth delightful. 

They broke apart to catch their breaths, Claude’s face dark with a blush. 

“I wish I could arouse you as easily as you provoke me,” Claude sighed softly and pressed kisses to Lorenz’s forehead, nose, and cheeks. “Your lightest touch, the right kind of smile, a bit of heat in your eyes, and I’m suddenly burning for you.”

“I’m a little envious, really,” Lorenz said, chuckling. “What would it be like to feel so intensely, so easily? To accept that it’s  _ okay _ to feel? Please know that you do affect me. I...I love you, Claude. Why else would I feel like my hands were fashioned to worship your form, my lips to taste your sweetness, my eyes to gaze upon you in adoration and admiration?”

_ That _ caused Claude to blush perhaps more ferociously than anything else Lorenz had said or done and he buried his face in Lorenz’s neck in flustered pleasure. Lorenz laughed softly as Claude made embarrassed sounds into his (Lorenz’s) skin and squirmed. He held Claude close, pressing a kiss to his head. 

“I…” Lorenz paused, tilted his head in thought, then nodded and continued. “I love you for who you are, and I love you all the more for who you are going to be. I love you for your realities, for your ideals. I pray for your desires to be great, rather than for you to find satisfaction. A satisfied flower is one whose petals are about to fall; the most beautiful rose is hardly more than a bud, wherein the pangs and ecstasies of desire are working for a larger, finer growth. You are moving towards something great, and I am on the way with you; therefore I love you.”* 

Lorenz could  _ feel _ the heat radiating off of Claude’s face and body from his blush and he squirmed adorably before abruptly pulling back and catching Lorenz in a kiss that left him breathless and dazed. 

“I like having a poet as my beau,” Claude said when he let go, his face still stained dark with a blush. 

“I have a feeling that you will be my muse for years to come,” Lorenz said, his voice low and rough. “I have an idea for a use for the notebook you gave me at the Monastery.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to fill it with love poems for and about you,” Lorenz said.

Claude smiled, the expression joyful, boyish. “I look forward to reading it once you fill the whole book.”

There was a brisk knock on the door and it opened; there was promptly a scandalized _meep_ and the door closed quickly. Lorenz blinked, then laughed, and Claude joined in too with quiet snickers.

“I think our dinner is ready,” Lorenz said, smiling as he tugged on the piece of Claude’s hair that chronically misbehaved. 

“So it would seem,” Claude said and nuzzled Lorenz’s hand before sitting up and shifting to his feet to retrieve his shirt and jacket.

A wild,  _ stupid, _ childish whim gripped Lorenz, so he reached out and pulled Claude back down to the couch while simultaneously standing himself. Claude floundered and flopped back down, startled, as Lorenz gathered the jacket and shirt and winked at Claude. “If you want your clothes back, you have to catch me before I reach the center of the rose garden.”

“What?” Claude said, momentarily baffled as Lorenz took off out of the study at a sprint.

Claude’s disbelieving laughter followed him as he ran towards the gardens. Claude had always been swifter, and his time as king hadn’t changed that, so Lorenz heard Claude quickly catching up with him. He probably would have caught him, if Lorenz didn’t know the locations of all the secret passages and hidden rooms in the Manse like the back of his hand, so it likely seemed like he vanished after turning a corner. He took the passageway until the next exit down the hallway and whistled when he reappeared, catching Claude’s attention and making him grin in response. Lorenz managed to evade capture until they reached the path to the garden; if he managed to outpace Claude on the straightaway into the maze, he would likely be able to lose him entirely. 

Lorenz didn’t favor his chances. 

He pushed himself to run as fast as he could, but he was breathing hard as it was, weariness dogging his steps as diligently as Claude did. Claude wasn’t breathing  _ easily _ either, which was the only consolation, but that was because Lorenz had forced him to stop and start and shift directions constantly during their game of cat-and-mouse. Lorenz yelped in surprise when Claude tackled him and sent them both tumbling across the lawn to roll to a breathlessly-laughing stop, Claude clinging to Lorenz’s waist as Lorenz watched the sky spin as he reoriented himself. 

“You’re a dick,” Claude gasped and took the clothes out of Lorenz’s hands as Lorenz wheezed. 

“Come now,” Lorenz said. “That was...rather fun...wasn’t it?”

Claude laughed in what Lorenz took to be agreement and pulled on his clothes, then flopped back down so his head was resting on Lorenz’s chest. For a long time, they simply breathed in time, Lorenz not even minding the curious ant that crawled up his arm; they only moved again once Rosalind arrived with a cart of their dinner and a desire to not get lost in the rose maze. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** _Spicy stuff:_ handjob, fellatio ; _Others:_ mentions of physical and emotional child abuse. Lorenz has so much suppressed trauma...
> 
> Now, you may have noticed that I now have a chapter limit--that is where the Fodlan arc of this story ends. I have decided to make this story into a duology; that way, if people don't want to read all the Almyran headcanons and OCs necessary to populate such a world, they needn't. Making this a 'series' also gives me someplace to put any future one-shots in this particular 'verse. I will be taking a small break after the completion of the Fodlan arc so I can build up some backlog and flesh out HCs and OCs, but you still have weekly updates for another few weeks. 
> 
> As always, thank you for your patronage and any kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc. that you choose to leave; additionally, FE3H is still not mine.

Lorenz watched Claude sleep and turned an idea over in his head. While he had read books wherein one member of a couple woke the other with a sex act and the they seemed to enjoy it, Claude had said that he would never do anything unless he (Lorenz) was fully aware. Did that mean that he should follow the same? Would Claude  _ dis _ like being woken by intimate touch? Was that crossing a line? 

_ I suppose it’s something to ask him later, _ Lorenz thought as he pulled Claude to him a little more tightly, burying his face in Claude’s hair. The movement must have roused Claude somewhat, since Claude fussed and his hand blindly reached back to briefly stroke Lorenz’s thigh before he settled back into sleep.

The problem was that Lorenz couldn’t so easily fall back asleep. His dreams swung between a variety of topics, some pleasant, some less so, and he was feeling more anxious than he liked to admit about  _ leaving _ . His entire life had been geared towards becoming Count Gloucester, but he was stepping down so he could follow a wonderful man into a semi-hostile country. The fact that he was making a decision based on  _ love _ was remarkable and unprecedented for him--for any of the Gloucesters, really. Lorenz lightly chewed on his lip as his fingers stroked Claude’s chest hair pensively. Was he really making the right choice?

“What are you anxious about?” Claude yawned and stretched a little before backing up and pressing himself more firmly against Lorenz, turning his head to press a quick kiss to Lorenz’s jaw. 

“Who says I’m anxious about anything?” Lorenz asked, not wanting Claude to wake up concerned.

“You only pet me like you’re afraid that if you don’t touch me I’ll vanish when you’re anxious,” Claude said around another yawn. 

Lorenz grunted. “It’s silliness, nothing for you to worry about. I do have a question for you, though.”

“Hm?”

“So, in some books I’ve read, there were times that one member of a couple woke their significant other up with some form of sex,” Lorenz said. “I have been wanting to  _ touch _ you, but I remembered that you said you wouldn’t do anything to me without me being fully aware. Might I wake you up with--Claude?”

Claude was making a high-pitched sound of embarrassment and he squirmed free of Lorenz’s embrace all so he could roll over and bury his face in Lorenz’s chest. 

“Is that a yes or a no?” Lorenz asked, confused.

“You... _ you _ want to initiate intimacy?” Claude asked, pulling back enough to look up at him (Lorenz). 

“Yes,” Lorenz said, his face promptly burning. “But if you’d rather--”

“No, no,” Claude interrupted. “I would  _ love _ to be woken up by you doing vile things to me. The thought that you couldn’t wait until I was awake to put your hands or your mouth on me, that you  _ want _ me that much, that badly…” he looked away briefly, even the tips of his ears slightly darker. “I like it?”

“That’s...good to hear,” Lorenz said with a smile before he pressed a kiss to Claude’s head. 

“Does that question mean you’re up from some good morning fun?” Claude asked, looking back to Lorenz, the ‘flirty’ tone creeping into his voice as he ran his hand up the outside of Lorenz’s thigh. 

“Perhaps,” Lorenz said, and he felt a surprisingly coy smile form on his face. “What would you consider to be ‘good morning fun’?”

“How about we start with you showing me what you wanted to do to wake me up?” Claude offered. “That way I’ll be able to tell you for sure whether or not you’re formally allowed to wake me like so whenever the mood strikes you.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lorenz said and nudged Claude. “Roll over again, your back to my chest.”

Claude did as bid, although with perhaps unnecessary squirming that left Lorenz shivering from the teasing. He swallowed hard, then pulled Claude tight and flush to him, with one arm around his (Claude’s) middle. He dipped his head to start to lightly nibble, lick, and kiss Claude’s closer ear and neck as his free hand began to trace the musculature of Claude’s torso, deliberately avoiding his nipples but making sure to touch anywhere he could. Claude groaned happily and reached behind him to stroke what part of Lorenz he could reach. 

Claude squirmed against him again, making Lorenz’s skin prickle, so he tightened his hold on Claude, then  _ pinched _ one of his nipples as he bit down on Claude’s earlobe none-too-gently. Claude yelped in surprise, but that turned into a warbled groan when Lorenz shifted to swirling his tongue around Claude’s earring and sucking gently.

“Oh gods, Lorenz,  _ why _ do you have to be so smart sometimes,” Claude panted. 

Lorenz chuckled and let go enough to slide down Claude’s body enough to comfortably tend to the side and back of Claude’s neck while also consequently moving his own increasing arousal out of easy squirming-stimulation range. Lorenz was sure Claude would quickly find another way to torment him, but he probably had a little bit of time, particularly if he  _ distracted _ him. As he continued to explore Claude’s neck with his lips and tongue and teeth, his non-restraining hand passed down Claude’s bellybutton and found that Claude was already at least partly aroused. He smiled into Claude’s skin and said, in his most  _ innocent _ tone, “I’m still not very good at this. You’ll have to direct me how to touch you.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Claude groaned as he shuddered, since Lorenz  _ did _ remember some of what Claude liked from their time in the bath together, which was when he had last put his hands on Claude’s phallus. “You’re doing just  _ fine _ ,” he continued, drawing out the ‘i’ in ‘fine’ as Lorenz lessened his hold so he could use his other hand to play with Claude’s nipples and pull lightly on his chest hair while still delicately savaging his neck with his lips.

“You’re sure?” Lorenz purred. “I want to make sure I  _ satisfy _ .”

Claude laughed breathlessly and said, “You’re the noble Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. You would never be content with simply  _ satisfying _ me. Not when you’ve already reduced me to begging for your dick and--oh you  _ tease _ ,” Claude finished in a groan. Lorenz had managed to position himself so his own surprisingly-erect phallus slid between Claude’s legs and rested against his perineum, the head of his (Lorenz’s) phallus nudging Claude’s scrotum. “You will not make me beg twice.”

“You really think so?” Lorenz asked, his voice a low, hot growl in Claude’s ear as his ministrations sped up on Claude. 

Claude hissed and bucked into Lorenz’s stimulation, which of course also moved his body along Lorenz’s length and prompted a low hum from Lorenz.

“ _ I _ am the  _ king _ of Almyra,” Claude replied. “It’s beneath me to beg.”

“Perhaps,” Lorenz responded. “But you do know that will be my goal henceforth, right? To have you plead to have me moving in you and leave my seed deep in your body?”

Claude shivered. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.  _ Gods _ , how am I already so close?!”

Lorenz hummed, pleased. It took a little bit of work to get the timing right, and he knew his motions were jerky, particularly since Claude was moving as well, but Lorenz managed to time moving his hips so his erection slid between Claude’s legs with his strokes on Claude’s own phallus, and the combination of the stimulation and Claude meeting his pseudo-thrusts sent both him and Claude over the edge quickly.

“Well?” Lorenz asked and pressed one final, light kiss to just behind Claude’s ear. “How about that as a way to wake you?”

Claude chuckled and said, “Yes, you can wake me up like that whenever the mood strikes you. Just….am I allowed to wake you the same way?”

“I…” Lorenz sighed. “It would be wrong of me to say no.”

“That doesn't mean you still can’t say it,” Claude said. “When I imagine waking up to you pleasuring me or using me to pleasure yourself, it makes me excited. What would you feel like if you woke up to someone stimulating you? You tend to be more vulnerable when waking…”

“You’re right,” Lorenz sighed again. “I...don’t think it would be enjoyable. At least, not  _ now _ . Perhaps in the future.”

Claude nodded. “Alright. I understand. But, can I...can I push on something?”

“Of course.”

“It dawned on me that you like doing the touching but....don’t seem to really like being  _ touched _ in return. Will you let me touch you more? Intimately, I mean. Because you deserve pleasure, too, and you know that I’ll stop at your word if there is even a hint of pain, right?”

“I know you’ll listen to me, yes,” Lorenz said and rested his chin on Claude’s shoulder, holding onto him lightly. 

“But, a part of you is still afraid,” Claude pressed.

“I...suppose,” Lorenz admitted. “I just...I wish I remembered  _ why _ having someone touch me like you want to makes me feel so... _ uneasy _ .”

“You don’t remember?” Claude asked cautiously. “Do you...do you  _ want _ to remember?”

“I feel like I should,” Lorenz said. “But I’m too good at forgetting.”

Claude tilted his head back and interlaced their fingers. “Well, some things aren’t worth remembering. So, we’ll just have to deal with the symptom without knowing the injury. I’ll find a workaround. Perhaps...”

Claude released Lorenz’s hands and squirmed out of the embrace, then slid out of the bed and walked over to a vase that held a few roses. He took out two stems and then snapped the stems off right beneath the flower. Lorenz watched, intrigued, as Claude returned and said, “Alright, roll over onto your back for me and put your hands next to your head, palms up.”

Lorenz did as told, rolling in the opposite direction of where strings of their semen were visible on the sheets, his intrigue deepening. 

“Okay, listen,” Claude said and put one rose in each of Lorenz’s palms, sliding the stump of a stem between Lorenz’s pointer and middle fingers. “You’re not allowed to crush or get rid of these flowers. If you do, I stop. That also means that if you  _ want _ me to stop, all you have to do is destroy the roses or throw them away. I know it’s probably going to be hard to get out of your head, but I want you to focus on two things: not crushing the flowers and  _ allowing  _ my touch without feeling the need to reciprocate. You’re already good with letting me relax you, now we’re going to try to get you more comfortable with letting me  _ arouse _ you. Got it, Lorenz?”

“And what exactly will you be doing?” Lorenz asked, oddly not worried. 

“Just touching and kissing you, going to the places I saw you react to when you touched yourself and seeing if I get the same reaction,” Claude explained. “I think there’s a kind of...of...assertiveness line for you? Like, if I’m  _ assertive _ then you’ll reflexively challenge me back, but if I’m exceedingly gentle and soft you’ll melt for me. You said that me being regal was arousing to you, so I think I was  _ commanding _ but not  _ imperious _ last time I tried to get you to submit to my touches and kisses, but I’m really not capable of being that cold to someone I love. So, gentle it is. Please be kind to the roses and let me worship your body, okay?”

“Very well.”

“May I get you off if you end up aroused? I won’t penetrate you with anything, but can I touch and taste and show you a little more of what  _ pleasure _ is?”

Lorenz felt his face heating and he could already feel his palms tightening, so forced his hands to relax as he ran his thumb along the soft petals of the roses. “Yes, you may.”

“Thank you,” Claude said and crawled over Lorenz’s supine form to lean down and catch him in a careful, thorough kiss that made all the tension drain out of Lorenz’s shoulders. 

Claude broke the kiss as softly as it began, then pressed gentle kisses to Lorenz’s forehead, nose, and cheeks, then inched slightly down Lorenz’s body so he could kiss his ears and neck. There was such  _ tenderness _ in the contact that Lorenz felt himself actually tearing up, which was ridiculous and embarrassing. It felt a little bit like Claude was  _ studying _ him, memorizing his body with fingertips and lips. It was a...different kind of touch than when Claude massaged him. There was more pressure and intent on those touches, almost like Claude was trying to will the tension and stress out of Lorenz’s body. What Claude was doing then felt...it really did feel  _ reverent _ , and the murmured compliments--soft skin, firm muscle, silken hair-- sounded almost like psalms to Lorenz’s ears. 

Lorenz felt the first tears leak free but couldn’t wipe them away or else harm the roses in his palms, so just had to deal with their presence. He couldn’t  _ understand _ why Claude talking about his body with such effusive, sincere praise was making him tremble, couldn’t figure out why the softest of loving touches with fingertips or lips made him want to break into hysterical sobbing. 

But, then Claude rested both his hands on Lorenz’s upper arms so he could shift to look at Lorenz’s face and it felt like the wind was knocked out of him. Lorenz remembered terror and pain, large hands clamping down painfully hard on his smaller form, leaving bruises in the shape of fingers on the skin of his upper arms. He remembered snippets of snarled words-- _unnatural_ , _aberration,_ _disgusting, monster_ \--that dripped with hatred and an overwhelming feeling of being terribly, utterly helpless and _alone_. 

His father had told him that his purple hair and eyes were the mark that he was an exceptional person, higher in power and prestige compared to the commonfolk who had such drab coloration as to be utterly forgettable. He had clung to those words, because he would much rather believe them than those who told him that his existence was  _ evil _ and his pale skin and unique coloration were signs that he wasn’t truly  _ human _ . 

So, then, which was he? Was he a monster like his family’s former servants had claimed, or some kind of god among men, as his father had insisted? Perhaps a bit of both? Exceptional, certainly, but was it a good thing or a bad thing? Was his body meant for pleasure or pain? Were his hands meant to destroy, to taint, to rend, or were they meant to create, to build, to heal? Was he meant to turn his strength to conquest and domination or was he supposed to support, to help? What was the purpose of his body? Was he a goblin or a god? A knight or a knave? 

_ “Doesn’t even cry like a proper child.” _

_ “They’re all reptiles, he probably physically can’t cry.” _

_ “Don’t look at me with those basilisk eyes. Should carve them out of your skull. Think I could sell them?” _

“Lorenz? Lorenz?!” 

Lorenz couldn’t breathe--they had found it funny, watching him struggle to pry their fingers away, to push away the pillow, to pick at the knot on the rope, to find a way to undo the belt--but always gave him the air back right before he would have passed out, leaving him gasping and trembling. He had started wearing high collars and cravats early to hide the marks. His mother had found them distressing to look at because it was evidence that her son was a failure, weak.

“Lorenz? Shit. My love, my heart, look at me. Open your eyes? Breathe? Anything? Please?”

Lorenz opened eyes he hadn’t known he’d closed, and took a long, deliberate breath in, and noticed that Claude was sitting beside him, his hands tucked firmly between his knees, and he looked  _ deeply _ distressed.

“Sorry,” Lorenz murmured after he had been comfortably, pointedly breathing for a little.

“No, don’t apologize,” Claude said, shaking his head. “Okay, so no restraints, don’t hold your hands over your head, no pinning you. What else did people do to you?”

“Please don’t try to suffocate or choke me,” Lorenz said, unable to look at Claude. “I would also prefer it if you didn’t strike me outside of sparring. Also, please don’t make me beg. When I was young and my parents were away, I’d be fed spoiled food and then have to beg to get them to clean my bathroom when my body inevitably...reacted poorly. Sometimes they wouldn’t even react to my pleas and let me fester in my own filth for days to teach me a lesson...or something.”

Claude made a soft sound of something between distress and anger and gently caressed Lorenz’s cheek. “Do you stop breathing when you’re anxious because people would stop hurting you if you passed out?”

“Perhaps,” Lorenz admitted and he turned his head to the side, which let him see the rose in his hand was still intact. “Oh, well, at least I didn’t crush the roses.”

“No, you just...seemed to give up,” Claude sighed. “And don’t change the topic. Your parents...didn’t do anything to stop what was being done to you?”

“I was told it was my fault,” Lorenz replied, and anything further he might have said off was cut off by Claude exclaiming in wordless outrage. 

“I’m sorry, I ruined the mood,” Lorenz said and carefully set aside the rose so he could lightly brush his fingertips against Claude’s thigh. 

“You said your father used rape as punishment against the female members of his household,” Claude said, lightly grasping Lorenz’s hand. “Did someone try to take their revenge on him by raping you?”

“I think there were a few who wanted to, but they also didn’t want to run the risk of catching some kind of disease or curse from me, so instead they’d...they’d...”

Lorenz’s mind once again ran up against a deliberate  _ nothingness _ , the blank neutrality a kind of broad ‘Here There Be Monsters’ warning. 

“Lorenz?”

Lorenz shook his head. “I...think I remember that it cost quite a hefty sum because of...clean up and...precautions…”

“Stop, don’t think about it anymore,” Claude said and took Lorenz’s hand in his; it was only then that Lorenz realized he was shaking. “That’s enough. And I don’t care about the  _ mood _ , I care about  _ you _ . ”

“Claude…”

“I’m sorry for bringing up bad memories, and I hate seeing you in distress, because you go so...still...whenever I hit any of your trauma,” Claude said and pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s hand. “So, are there any other places I shouldn’t touch or things I shouldn’t do? I never want to hurt you and nothing sends my heart to my heels faster than fear entering your eyes.”

Lorenz smiled softly. “I know.”

“Good. Answer the question, please.”

“I suppose…” Lorenz sighed. “I would never be able to handle half of what I’ve done to you. I can’t even tell you that just being  _ gentle _ means you should be okay, because you were nothing but delightful and delicate and still…” Lorenz sighed again. “I’ve just got so many things I’ve forgotten to get by that you bring to the surface accidentally.”

“Truth,” Claude said with a wry smile. The smile faded quickly and he grew thoughtful. “I’m going to lie on top of you, okay? Chest-to-chest. You seemed okay with it yesterday...”

“Pardon?”

“That’s  _ all _ I’m going to do. You can push me off when it gets to be too much for you.”

Lorenz watched Claude and fought back dread as Claude shifted to be supported over him. Claude’s eyes narrowed slightly and he said, “You’re already going pale.”

“I’m fine.”

Claude snorted, denying the lie a dignity of an actual response. He very slowly and carefully laid down, and feeling Claude’s body against his actually sharply brought down the level of anxiety he felt, and he lightly clasped his hands over Claude’s lower back.

“You’re okay as long as there is some form of contact, but not with looming,” Claude murmured, thoughtful. “Interesting.”

“I’m glad I’m a satisfactory puzzle.”

“You are so much more than just a  _ puzzle _ ,” Claude said firmly. “You are a complex, wounded man and I want to see what you’ll eventually look like when reconciled with all of the damage that your upbringing did to you. I thought I had it shitty with abduction and assassination attempts and people hating me for literally no reason, but at least my parents love me and protected me as best they could. I know I carry my own share of  _ problems _ , but there’s something to be said about growing up in a loving family.”

“Can I take your last name, then?”

“Pardon?”

“If--when--we marry. May I take your last name?”

“Uh, sure,” Claude said, his face promptly growing multiple shades darker. “Like, do you want  _ von Riegan _ or  _ Alizadeh _ ?”

“Alizadeh is your Almyran surname?”

“It is, yes.”

Lorenz hummed as he thought and ran his hands slowly up and down Claude’s spine. “It is...very different from what I’m used to. Lorenz Hellman Alizadeh sounds a little odd, but I suppose you gave up the von Riegan surname to ascend the Almyran throne, so I will grow accustomed to it. I’ll start practicing signing it.”

“Oh, I should teach you Almyran script, too,” Claude said. “Damn. You have a lot to learn as we travel.”

“I look forward to it,” Lorenz said. “I love you, Claude. And ‘sure’ isn’t necessarily an answer. Is it okay for me to take Alizadeh as my last name when I marry you?”

“Yes! Yes, it is,” Claude said, the blush that had been fading returning with force. “Please stop giving me hope. I’m terrified that the more you talk about marrying me with such sincerity the more likely it is that you’ll meet the full reality of my people and/or my parents and suddenly want nothing to do with me.”

“My love for you is not dependent on either of those groups,” Lorenz said. “Your mother could hate me and I would endure because it is your opinion of me that matters, not hers. I have been called a viper, an aberration, a leech, and worse by the people who were supposed to care for me and have been the focus of slander and gossip my entire life, so the hostility your people may feel towards me in the beginning will be nothing new to me. I want to spend whatever remains of my life with you, Claude. Your love makes me strong.”

“You were always strong,” Claude said softly, tenderly. “Alright.”

“Hm?”

“Your going away party will also be our engagement party.”

“Really?!” Lorenz said, breathless with  _ hope _ . 

“Yes, and--because I am a romantic with more hope than sense, I do have the engagement ring I picked out with me. I told myself a thousand times that I was barking up the wrong tree thinking that I’d be able to seduce you and make you  _ see _ me, but...well, my heart is stubborn and insisted that if I was careful enough that even the long shot of a scheme I had come up with would work.”

“And did it?”

“Absolutely not!” Claude laughed. “I can’t even remember what my original plan was because I didn’t expect...I didn’t expect that you had  _ feelings _ about me outside of grudging admiration for me. ‘A world without you would be ever so dull.’ But then you flirted-but-not-really with me and didn’t immediately react poorly when we both woke up with morning wood and you sang me to sleep when I was having nightmares and....well, let’s just say that my original plan was very quickly in such tatters that my  _ seduction _ of you has been mostly improvised and entirely sincere.”

“So even the Master Tactician can’t account for every contingency?” Lorenz semi-teased.

Claude snorted and said, “You have a way of surprising me at every turn.”

“Is it wrong of me to hope I never stop surprising you?”

“No,” Claude said, affection lacing his voice. “I generally like surprises, as long as they don’t involve pain.”

“So, do I get to see this engagement ring or do I have to wait until the party tonight so you can officially, formally propose to me, since I did a rather hack-job of my proposal to you?”

Claude chuckled. “I already confessed to you that I wanted to marry you long before I had figured out  _ how _ to propose to you, so I think we both did a rather poor job of it.”

“Hm, I’ll have to commission someone to make a ring for you, since I don’t want to take any jewelry from my parents and will be handing over my signet ring to Portia. What kind do you want? Just a simple gold band? Or, perhaps, something with emeralds, to match your eyes?”

“No, no,” Claude said. “I want you to get something for me that, each time I look at it, I’ll remember I’m going to be married to  _ you _ . So it needs some kind of purple stone, and definitely has to be gold.”

Lorenz smiled, feeling his face heat pleasantly. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Then that is what I’ll have made for you,” Lorenz said. 

“Now, I want to walk out the door with you wearing my ring, so let me find it,” Claude said with a brilliant smile and slid off Lorenz’s body to pad over to his bags and rifle through the inside pockets.

Eventually, he came away with a small, black pouch and, upon returning to Lorenz’s side, extended his hand to Lorenz; without hesitation, Lorenz put his hand in Claude’s. Claude tipped over the pouch and a ring fell into Lorenz’s palm. The band was gold, and Lorenz’s breath caught at the combination of black opals and rubies that were inset in it. Opals were frequently used when crafting magical rings, and black opals were among the best gems for such.

“Claude--”

“Will  _ you _ do me the honor of marrying me, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester?” Claude asked.

“Of course,” Lorenz answered immediately. “Yes. I’ll be your husband. I just...feel bad that I have nothing to give you right now.”

“Don’t,” Claude said, shaking his head and he slipped the ring on Lorenz’s finger; it fit perfectly, to Lorenz’s pleasure. “You’ll get it eventually and I look forward to whenever that happens.”

It was strange, wearing a ring other than his signet, but it felt...right. He pulled Claude into a long, lingering kiss that was interrupted by a knock on his door. 

“Be right there,” Lorenz called after he pulled away.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Desdemona answered. 

Lorenz pulled on his robe as Claude made huffy unhappy sounds at being interrupted. 

_ He really is like a large puppy or something sometimes, _ Lorenz thought, amused as he opened the door to see Desdemona waiting with a tea tray--and a small packet of papers.

“What’s this?” Lorenz asked as he took the papers from Desdemona as she swept by him to set up his tea. 

“The list of people who are willing to follow you into Almyra,” Desdemona said. “Sorry it took me a while, but I wanted to make sure I had asked  _ everyone _ so no one would feel slighted or whatever.”

“No, it’s fine,” Lorenz said and sat down at the table as Desdemona finished pouring the first cup for him. Lorenz looked at the list of people who were willing to go to Almyra with him as he sipped his morning tea and frowned. “Desdi? Why do  _ you _ want to go when you just got promoted to Head Maid?”

Desdemona pointed to Claude, who was lounging still fully-naked with only a pillow held loosely over his crotch in Lorenz’s bed, and said, “I want one.”

Claude burst out laughing as Lorenz struggled to not smile and said, “Well, you can’t have mine and he doesn’t have siblings. It might take some time and effort, but you’ve inherited the Gloucester stubbornness, haven’t you? I’m sure you’ll find a, ah, strapping Almyran husband eventually.”

“Damn right I will,” Desdemona said with a smirk. 

“I’d recommend bringing one manservant and then another woman,” Claude said. “That would mesh better with my household and general Almyran expectations, but I leave the final decision to you since these people will be your remnants of Fodlan.”

“I’m honestly surprised so many people wish to come with me,” Lorenz said and flipped the page to discover that the lists had been divided between men and women. “No one is giving Portia any grief, right?”

“Nope,” Desdemona said. “They’re all used to respecting her since she was their boss, now she’s just their boss with a fancy title. Your Grace.”

Lorenz hummed and flipped back to the list of women willing to travel with him. “That’s good. I’m already leaving her at a loose end in a lot of ways, the last thing she needs is a resentful household.”

“True,” Desdemona agreed.

“...why does  _ Ophelia _ want to come with me?”

“I imagine it’s ‘cause His Hotness over there mentioned that he was planning on expanding the palace gardens to include Fodlanese flowers and she feels that having a gardener familiar with their needs would be a good idea?” Desdemona offered.

“ _ His Hotness _ ?” Claude repeated before cackling. 

“Well, you are,” Lorenz semi-agreed. “Please don’t call him that when we’re in Almyra.”

“I won’t,” Desdemona said, then smirked. “Probably.”

Lorenz snorted. “Very well. I’ll take you, Ophelia, and Henry.”

“Because Shadow likes Henry, right?” Desdemona said and took back the list. “I’ll let them know and pack myself. We leave tomorrow, after all. Plenty to do! Who do you think I should promote to my newly vacated position?”

“Ask Portia, not me,” Lorenz said. “She’s the one running this territory now.”

“Sure thing, Your Grace,” Desdemona said. “Could you put together a list for us as to what you want from your study and if there are any keepsakes or knick-knacks you want transported? You should also go through the debris of your parents’ suite. At least you’ve already begun the exercise of picking out your clothes.”

“Nothing he has  _ fits me _ ,” Claude whined and plumped the pillow he was holding sullenly.

“I’m more svelte than you,” Lorenz sighed. “I don’t think anything  _ will _ fit besides the robe I already gave you.”

“Such bullshit,” Claude grumbled, provoking an affectionate giggle from Desdemona. 

“I’ll put together such lists,” Lorenz said, turning back to Desdemona. “Thank you for your help.”

“It’s my pleasure to serve you,” Desdemona said with only a slight touch of wryness to her tone. She curtseyed and left, the heels on her boots clicking audibly with her brisk, purposeful stride.

“She’ll find herself a husband in no time with her attitude,” Claude said, clearly amused. “I feel a little bad for my guardsmen, since I’m sure she’ll have the entire eligible palace guard ranked and her focus narrowed in days.”

“Desdemona knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to chase her ambitions,” Lorenz agreed with a wry smile. “How much issue will they have with her eye color?”

“Oh, I can already see some of the more romantic members of my guard comparing them to precious gemstones,” Claude said while gesturing idly with the pillow, tossing it away and exposing himself fully now that they were alone again.

Lorenz sighed softly, unable to restrain a smile. “You think so? That’s good to hear. She’s had a rough life, she deserves a husband she can parade around as arm candy.”

Claude coughed, then laughed. “Whoo boy, my men aren’t going to know what to do with her.”

“It will be...interesting,” Lorenz said. “Now, I have  _ plenty  _ to do today. I think we’ve settled on six outfits so far as of yesterday?”

“I wasn't expecting your armoire and drawers to contain so  _ much _ ,” Claude said and stretched. “Which makes it all the more upsetting that I haven’t found something of yours to wear.”

Lorenz shook his head and walked back to his armoire and opened a drawer to have a small, hidden compartment, pop out as well. Lorenz stared at it, baffled for a moment before comprehension dawned. “I doubt you ever shall. But...so, I believe that, at one point, I unintentionally led on a scholar I communicated with. It only dawned on me recently that the gifts I received from him would be considered...inappropriate to send to a  _ much _ younger penpal.”

“Oh?” Claude said, crawling across the mattress to watch as Lorenz took out a velvet pouch. “Like, sex toys?”

“No, I was too young for sex toys,” Lorenz drawled. “But I must have mentioned that I was envious of my parents’ signet rings and my mother’s jewelry, since I received this from him.”

Claude curiously held out his hands and Lorenz emptied the contents of the bag into it. Out of the bag tumbled a ring, a cravat pin, a set of cufflinks, a pair of earrings, a pocket watch, and a pendant. All were made of solid gold--even the body of the pocket watch, which was why Lorenz never used it for fear of scratching it. All also had a rose motif in a variety of precious gemstones. He had hidden the jewelry because he didn’t want to provoke his parents’ ire and was frankly surprised they had remained hidden for so long.

Claude whistled, impressed. “Yeah, you don’t give this kind of stuff to a penpal.”

“I was...afraid of wearing them when I was younger because even then I knew how expensive they must have been and how they would...draw attention.”

“Yeah, that’s putting it lightly,” Claude murmured and flipped open the watch. “Well, look at that, it’s still working. Not the right time, but the craftsmanship is  _ good _ .”

“Do you want it?”

“No, I’d lose it when flying,” Claude said. “But, I’m guessing that means that I can choose from these for myself?”

“Of course. Consider it a stop-gap until I have your ring made.”

Claude scrutinized the jewelry and then attempted to slip the ring on his finger; he was clearly unsurprised to find it didn’t fit. “Hm…do you have a necklace for the pendant?”

Lorenz fished around in the small compartment and came out with only a short chain, so shook his head. “I have never favored necklaces. My armor carries most of my ornamentation and after I was beaten for trying on my mother’s jewelry, I figured that I would learn to content myself with just the signet ring. It has been an occasional struggle.”

“You like jewelry?”

“I like pretty things.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Does that mean you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re breathtaking,” Lorenz said and tilted Claude’s head up slightly. “The pinnacle of masculine beauty. If the Goddess ever had a consort, his appearance would be a pale imitation of you.”

Claude’s face flushed dark and he leaned into Lorenz’s touch. “Sure that isn’t blasphemous?”

“No, since there is nothing in the canon that indicates the goddess had a steady consort, or that she even had physical or romantic relationships with others, in spite of being a creatrix.”

Claude chuckled slightly at that and kept the ring and pendant while putting back the other pieces of jewelry in the bag Lorenz still held. “I’ll find a chain for these, but until then, I’ll set them aside in my bags. 

“Ah,yes,  _ you _ should get all your belongings together, too, shouldn’t you? Why don’t you work on that while I finish this up.”

“No, I like watching you,” Claude responded. “Now, if you don’t put some space between us I’m afraid I’ll just drag you back to the bed for some more kisses and cuddles.”

Lorenz sighed affectionately and pressed a kiss to Claude’s forehead, but pulled back before Claude could insist on a kiss on the lips. Claude gave an annoyed huff at being denied, but eventually grumbled and got up out of the bed and began to gather the things he had brought with him, taking sips of the tea that had been set out for him by Desdemona as he did so.

Lorenz managed to get through another drawer before he was distracted by watching Claude simply  _ move _ about, watching his musculature bunch and flex, remembering how  _ nice _ it was to hold such solidity tightly. It was a struggle to stay still and not simply gather Claude in his arms and  _ touch _ him.

“You’re staring again,” Claude accused even as he clearly fought a smile.

“You’re walking around naked.”

“I know.”

“It’s hard to  _ not  _ oggle your magnificence when you flaunt yourself so.”

Claude snickered and then stopped to  _ pose _ deliberately in the way that the morning light would highlight him best and give Lorenz a lusty wink before going back to collecting his things.

“You’re a dick,” Lorenz grumbled, his face burning as he finished cleaning out his drawers. His hands lingered on the final piece of clothing and he ran his fingers along the seams of the Academy uniform, unsure of what to make of the emotions the uniform evoked in him. 

_ I haven’t grown much since I wore this,  _ Lorenz thought and took off his robe and began to pull on the uniform again.  _ I wonder if it still fits _ .

It was a little tight around his shoulders, which was mildly gratifying, but he was amused to find that it was still comfortable. He put his hands in his pocket and blinked, surprised. He thought he had emptied the pockets. He pulled out whatever was within and to find it a crumpled piece of paper.

_ “You bring me sunshine when all I see is rain; you bring me laughter when all I feel is pain _ .”

_ I wonder who I wrote this about? _ Lorenz thought as he turned over the paper to try to determine who he had been crushing on to provoke such words from his younger self. He had been pretty badly infatuated with Marianne for a while, and then Lysithea had caught his eye, but he would never have associated those crushes with laughter or sunshine; both young women had been enigmas, and he had longed for both of them to smile, to somehow uncover and fix  _ their _ pain and lighten their burdens, but they hadn’t brought sunlight to his life. Leonie had flustered him for a while, and then he had been enamored with Dorothea’s grace and Mercede’s poise, but all of the commoner women had helped him  _ grow _ as a person--if they had been lights in his life, it had been to shed illumination on his failings and misconceptions. 

“Wow, you still have your uniform? You look...um...nevermind. Why the frown?” Claude asked. 

“I’m trying to remember who prompted this,” Lorenz said and gestured to the paper with his free hand and looked to Claude. Claude being naked did give Lorenz the advantage of knowing if he hit on something that  _ interested _ Claude’s carnal side, and Claude was blushing and sporting a partial-erection, so Lorenz quirked his eyebrow. “Oho,  _ someone _ is intrigued by me wearing this. I wonder why.”

“Quiet,” Claude said and lowered Lorenz’s hand so he could easily read the snippet. His expression softened and he said, “That’s a sweet and sad sentiment.”

“I can’t think of whom I would be referencing with this,” Lorenz said. “It may have been a free-floating thought, a yearning, or something I thought would make a better addition to a longer poem.”

“Perhaps,” Claude agreed. When he tried to pull away, Lorenz wrapped his arm around Claude’s waist and kept him near.

“You didn’t answer what about me wearing this uniform has your body  _ interested _ ,” Lorenz said. 

“It’s, uh, just a  _ little _ too tight in a couple of strategic places,” Claude said, not quite looking at Lorenz. “Shows off your  _ assets _ , if you get my drift.”

“Ah, so you wouldn’t be interested in playing student and teacher?” Lorenz asked.

Claude’s face darkened another shade. “How are you so...so…how many romance novels did you  _ actually _ read?” Claude semi-accused.

“Enough,” Lorenz hedged and bent down so their lips were almost touching. “Or are you remembering the tension from our early days together? You read how I worked through my obsession with you when we were students, do you think it would be interesting to revisit that dynamic? The thrilling uncertainty of whether I wanted to kill you, be you, or kiss you?”

Claude didn’t let him talk any more after that, standing on his tip-toes and wrapping his arms around Lorenz’s neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. 

“Question,” Claude said once the kiss broke.

“Hm?”

“Can I suck you off while you’re wearing this? You don’t have to do anything in response, but you can if you want.”

“I suppose if you want?” Lorenz said, his face burning. The Lorenz of their academy days would have been both scandalized and easily persuaded by the thought of the upcoming leader of the Alliance on his knees, accepting his seed, and Lorenz swallowed hard. “Do you want me to sit, stand…?”

Claude very gently guided him to the point where he was fetched up against the wall, then stepped into another kiss. Claude slid Lorenz’s pants down just far enough to reveal Lorenz’s growing erection and pumped him to full life, Lorenz releasing himself from the kiss to voice a soft sigh. 

“You can tug on my hair as hard as you want,” Claude said as he knelt, and pressed a kiss to a patch of bare skin on Lorenz’s hip. “And come as fast as you want, too, this is me being a bit selfish, really.”

“Right,” Lorenz breathed. His head fell back against the wall with a quiet  _ thunk  _ as Claude began to take him (Lorenz) in his (Claude’s) mouth, a shuddering, quiet moan escaping Lorenz. He ran his fingers through Claude’s hair, which made Claude hum in appreciation and sent waves of sensation through Lorenz that made his toes curl. He made himself look down, and watching Claude’s head and hands move on his (Lorenz’s) phallus was arresting, and another groan escaped him when Claude did  _ something _ with his tongue that made Lorenz’s legs feel weak. It was surprisingly easy to stay still, because he wanted to  _ know _ what Claude wanted to do, wanted to experience as much as possible that which Claude wanted to give him. 

Of course, that was far easier resolved than done, and he found he was almost sweating with the effort of keeping himself on the edge. It was such a seductive, liminal space, clinging to the edge of orgasm, not quite allowing himself to slip off the edge, but he didn’t have half the endurance he actually needed to hold off for long.

“C-claude, I’m close,” he panted. Claude seemed to have a habit of warning him when he was near orgasm, so he figured it was considerate to do the same. Hearing that, Claude gave him a  _ wink _ , took a deep breath, then just took him (Lorenz) in to the hilt and started swallowing.

A  _ very _ undignified sound of surprise and pleasure was wrenched from Lorenz when Claude did that, and Lorenz came  _ hard _ , it somehow feeling like Claude was drinking all the strength in his body along with his seed. He was shaking when Claude pulled back, his own face a little bit flushed. 

“Thank you,” they both said at more-or-less the same time, albeit with very different tones, which provoked a bout of giggles as Claude stood and readjusted Lorenz’s clothing to cover him again. 

“You liked watching me pleasure you?” Claude asked as he smoothed down the front of Lorenz’s jacket.

“Immensely,” Lorenz said. “Do you want me to…?”

“No, because if you do, then I’ll have to return the favor, and we’d spend the entire day indulging in each other instead of getting anything done. Not that that sounds like a particularly  _ awful _ way to spend the day, but you’d feel guilty.”

“True on both counts,” Lorenz said and leaned down for what he meant to be a short kiss that instead turned into Claude melting against him and dragging it out for beautiful, long moments.

“Claude?”

“You still want to kiss me even after I went down on you,” Claude said and gave him a brilliant smile. 

“Yes?” Lorenz said, baffled. 

“You don’t think it’s gross that my mouth was on your dick?”

“I do my best to keep myself clean,” Lorenz said, only not insulted because this was clearly something that a previous lover had taken issue with and he saw no reason for the hang-up. “Not wanting to kiss you because you put your mouth on my body would imply that  _ I’m _ dirty, and I most certainly am not.”

Claude chuckled and smiled again before pulling away. “Right. You seek to embody the rose in all things, right?”

“Indeed,” Lorenz said and let Claude go, even though he suddenly felt much colder and bereft without Claude in his arms. A memory niggled Lorenz as he admired Claude walking away, so he asked: “May I pinch or smack your butt if you insist on walking around in the nude?”

_ That _ caused Claude to trip over air, and catch himself on the table before breaking into laughter. He looked over his shoulder and said, “Yes, my love, you can grope me whenever you want. Well, maybe not during--no, you can do it during formal functions as well as long as you’re discreet about it.”

“Noted,” Lorenz said, and Claude shivered at his smile. 

Lorenz quickly changed out of his old Academy uniform and into an older set of formal wear that was years out of fashion but that still fit him--might as well make use of clothes he wasn’t using or planning to bring with him. 

“...why aren’t those kinds of pants still in fashion?” Claude asked after a couple minutes of silence.

“Hm?”

“Those pants,” Claude said. “Like, you don’t have an ass, but those pants make it look like you have an  _ ass _ .”

“...thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

Lorenz shook his head in amusement and debated throwing his robe at Claude and asking him to cover so he wouldn’t give Desdemona an eyeful when she came to pick up the tea. At the same time, he didn’t  _ entirely _ mind if she did because Claude had a magnificent body and it was all his to touch and enjoy and he wouldn’t mind rumors of how well-proportioned Claude was being spread. He reveled in other people’s jealousy. 

But that was  _ his _ preference, not Claude’s, and Claude’s was what mattered. “Do you want to borrow my robe or are you okay with Desdemona or my maids potentially getting a full-frontal view of you when she comes by to pick up the tea?”

“Depends on you,” Claude said. “I have nothing to hide and am not ashamed of my body.”

“Your comfort is what matters to me,” Lorenz said. “ _I_ don’t mind people knowing I have the mortal incarnation of a god as a fiance. Other people seething in jealousy makes me pleased.”

Claude chuckled, his face flushing. “I’m really not that--”

“You most certainly are,” Lorenz interrupted firmly. “Shall I detail the ways for you?”

Claude took a deep breath, paused, then turned to face Lorenz fully and said, “Yes.”

Lorenz walked over and caged Claude against the table, then leaned in so he’d only have to speak in a whisper, their lips again almost touching, and began to verbally detail every single aspect of Claude’s appearance in painstaking detail. It wasn’t his best prose, and he relied heavily on cliches and dredging up old snippets of poems he had once read himself, but it seemed like his skill at wordsmithing was irrelevant in the face of how he left no facet of Claude’s appearance uncomplimented; that was his guess based on Claude’s expression, at least. Claude’s face was flushed dark, a soft, pleased smile on his lips, and his eyes seemed to shine with something like gratitude.

“I like having a poet as my fiance,” Claude said, his voice low, warm, and gentle.

“I like having you as mine  _ in general _ ,” Lorenz said and pressed a quick kiss to Claude’s lips.

Claude chuckled and then stepped into Lorenz’s body and caught him in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Claude murmured, then released Lorenz. “I  _ should _ probably at least wear pants.”

“If you wish,” Lorenz said and stepped away. “I really need to start making those lists. But...what do I keep and what do I leave behind? My life is here, and everything has  _ memories _ attached to it, both good and bad. I want to bring  _ everything _ , but I can’t.”

Claude hummed as he pulled on the pair of sleep-pants of Lorenz’s that fit him, then said, “Why don’t you not make a list, but instead pick out a bag and fill it with everything you can comfortably carry and that’s what you’ll bring with you?”

Lorenz tilted his head in thought and said, “I...suppose that will work. It forces prioritization of things much better than simply ‘make a list,’ since I have to decide what I would personally be willing to carry.”

“Precisely,” Claude said with an easy smile. “Bring the things that will make you happy when you see them and leave the rest behind. After all, you  _ are _ going to be my husband and I look forward to spoiling you rotten.”

Lorenz snorted. “Some would say I already am.”

“Those people only know the public persona you project, not who you really are,” Claude answered dismissively. “Their opinions don’t count.”

“If you say so,” Lorenz responded, amused.  _ Husband. I will..I will be someone’s  _ husband _. I have...I...I have  _ found _ someone. Someone loves me enough to, to...risk everything to be with me. He has so much to lose--the kingship. And yet... _

“You’re not breathing.”

“Apologies,” Lorenz said and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” Claude insisted. “But I won’t make you tell me what it is unless you want to.”

“A part of me still questions the wisdom of you choosing me,” Lorenz admitted and walked to the chest that held his bags and luggage. “You could lose the kingship, couldn’t you?”

“Eh, they could  _ try _ ,” Claude said. “It’s surprisingly hard to get rid of me besides trying to off me directly. They’ve learned--mostly--to not try poisons, and I haven’t had anyone actually attempt to kill me in a few years now, so I guess they’re used to me and have accepted my rule to an extent? I’ll lose  _ some _ favor, for certain, but the people who care about who I choose to spend my life with don’t matter.”

Lorenz nodded slightly, still unconvinced. “Are you done packing?”

“Yup.”

“Could you help me pack my clothes in here? They should all fit.”

Desdemona returned to pick up their tea tray and deliver breakfast to discover them fighting to close the luggage that held Lorenz’s clothes. She sat on the top after nearly asphyxiating from laughter, and together they managed to successfully close it. 

“Do you have a list for me?” she asked once they shoved the luggage in a corner. 

“Ah, I was...distracted...so, no,” Lorenz said. “But I figured it would be best for me to pack everything anyway. You passed on the message to Henry and Ophelia?”

“Distracted, huh?” Desdemona drawled, her tone and how she looked at the still half-naked Claude telling Lorenz she knew exactly what had  _ distracted _ him. “And, I did, yes.”

“I think I’ll go through my parents’ belongings after breakfast,” Lorenz said and picked out two of his most used traveling bags. “Where are you storing them currently?”

“I’ll take you there when you’re done eating,” Desdemona said. “Is His Hotness going to walk around like that all day? If he does I don’t think much  _ work _ will get done and you’ll be frequently interrupted.”

“I’ll put on actual clothes,” Claude said, his voice laced with suppressed laughter.

“Just ring the bell when you’re ready,” Desdemona said and left with the tea tray, a light blush coloring her cheeks.

Claude snickered and pulled on his normal day-clothes; it took a great deal of self-control on Lorenz’s part not to  _ assist _ . Breakfast was a quiet affair, with Claude stealing bites from Lorenz’s plate while also feeding him in return from his own. It was playful and cute and Lorenz wondered if it would be able to continue even in Almyra. He wasn’t sure how kings were expected to behave in that country, but he doubted that such open affection would be easily tolerated. It made him almost a little sad.

Lorenz rang the bell once they were finished, and shortly there was a knock at the door to indicate that Desdemona had returned. As they walked towards wherever his parents’ things had been stashed, his half-sister peppered Claude with questions, primarily about Almyran culture; her one question about whether or not Almyrans were  _ well hung _ that she slipped in made Lorenz choke and Claude burst out laughing.

“Desdi!” Lorenz pseudo-scolded.

“What? It’s a perfectly valid question when the majority of Fodlanese men who have tried to have sex with me all seem to have micropenises,” Desdemona said primly. “I’d like to know that I’ll be able to find me a man who can satisfy.”

“Then I suppose I should count myself lucky that I found myself a Fodlanese man who is rather well-endowed,” Claude said and shot Lorenz a wink that made Lorenz’s face burn.

“Ew, don’t talk about my brother like that, that’s weird,” Desdemona said, wrinkling her nose. 

It took all of Lorenz’s self-control to not come to an abrupt stop, but he did look over to Desdemona perhaps a little too quickly, stunned.

“You...think of me as a brother?” Lorenz asked, and a part of him hated how unsure he sounded, even if the emotion was understandable.

Desdemona looked to him and said quickly, “Oh goddess, don’t cry!”

“I’m not going to cry.”

Desdemona sighed heavily and ran her fingers through her hair. “I mean, you’re my employer first and foremost, then a noble, but...I mean, we have the same shitty dad and he did both of us dirty, just in different ways, so I can’t help but look at you and see kin.”

“Oh, I...I’m sorry, have I been treating you wrongly? I tried to be impartial and fair even when I knew that my employees were family…” Lorenz said and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Oh, no, not at all,” Desdemona said. “I mean, how you treated me--us--was and is fine. The fact that you gave us the chance to be assholes to the people who abandoned us and took our side when Albany or Phebe complained was worth more than you can fathom. You...recognized us as siblings by doing that, in a way, even if you never directly called us sister. The fact that you brought Portia back into the family, that you were willing to consider  _ any _ of us instead of handing power back to your, our, dad said a whole lot, too.” Desdemona smiled wryly. “And in case you didn’t notice, you tend to have a nickname for all of your sisters and half-sisters, but you don’t have one for the household members who  _ aren’t _ your siblings.”

“Oh. I, ah, hadn’t noticed that, no.”

“I mean, I’m not surprised given how thick you men tend to be,” Desdemona drawled. “I do find it funny that you chose all family members to come with you.”

Lorenz tilted his head slightly, mildly confused. “There are no records of me having any brothers..?”

“Eeeh, shouldn’ta said that,” Desdemona said, her face flushing. “Henry’s birth name is Henrieta.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose that explains why Shadow likes him so much, if he’s a Gloucester, too.”

Desdemona snorted. “Of course you’d focus on your horse. Well, here’s where everything is stored. You want us to bring lunch here?”

“If we’re not here, we’ll be in my study organizing what I’m bringing with me,” Lorenz said. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Desdemona said with a curtsey. “I see you have some new jewelry. Are congratulations in order?”

Lorenz’s face abruptly heated and he coughed in pleased embarrassment and Claude squeezed his fingers gently. “They are indeed.”

“Then I’ll tell Rosalind she needs to make a cake to celebrate! You like chocolate, right?”

Claude made a soft, slightly strangled sound, which Lorenz agreed with entirely, since  _ chocolate _ would inevitably bring up memories of the last time he used--or, perhaps abused--it. He felt his face grow even warmer and he said, “Ah, I would prefer vanilla this time.”

Desdemona looked between the two of them then said, “Nope, not asking. I will tell Rosalind vanilla. Good luck with sorting everything.”

With that proclamation, she deliberately walked away.

“I...suppose I am not particularly subtle,” Lorenz murmured, and Claude chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t just you,” Claude responded. “C’mon, let’s get this over with so we can go and pick out stuff you  _ want _ to take with you.”

“Indeed,” Lorenz agreed, his good mood dampening. “Very well. Let’s see what Portia and the household managed to scavenge from the ruins of the Count’s suite.”

Lorenz opened the door to the spare room and saw that the remains were less than he had feared but more than he expected. Some things were spread out on sheets while others were stacked in boxes; there was plenty to do and go through, that was for certain. 

Lorenz sat down at the table and sighed. He hadn’t really  _ registered _ how much damage had been done by his father’s spells, and how terrifying he must have looked simply  _ shrugging it off _ . He had always been resilient, but to the knights and his household, many of whom were commoners with an uncertain grasp on the intricacies of magic, he must have seemed a monster.

“Where do I start?” Lorenz asked Claude, who had wrapped his arms around Lorenz’s shoulders to rest his chin on the top of Lorenz’s head. 

“Pick a box,” Claude said. “I’ll bring it over here and we’ll go through it. Then you move on to the next box. Slow and steady wins here.”

“Right,” Lorenz sighed. “I’m not looking forward to this.”

“How about after each box you get a kiss as a reward?” Claude offered. “If it has been a particularly difficult box, I’ll do something...else. What do you say?”

“I’ll never turn down kisses from you,” Lorenz said with a small smile. “I doubt they left anything of  _ true _ import in the suite, though. Phebe would have kept that in her private laboratory and Albany in his secret library. I am inclined to let those two rooms rot, but will show them to Portia so that if she ever has heirs curious about the building that she’ll know where to say is off-limits.”

“You’d like being an uncle?”

“I’d give almost anything to be a father,” Lorenz admitted “But that is a conversation for another time. There are boxes to go through.”

“Right.”

It was easier to sort through the remnants of his parents’ belongings than he had expected. He had no need for their clothes; he set aside his mother’s jewelry to be appraised and sold to pay for the Count’s suite renovations; their books were interesting but overall unimportant, although he did set aside the books that seemed  _ suspicious _ , in one way or another. There was some spare money, various collectible items, but nothing of true  _ value _ to Lorenz. Anything that had monetary worth was set aside to fund Portia’s repairs, but for the most part, Lorenz tossed the remnants of his parents’ lives in the fireplace and then set them alight with a well-placed Fire spell. 

Claude had held to his promise and gave Lorenz a tender, gentle kiss after each set of debris they went through, but when they watched the Fire spell consuming the debris, Claude climbed into his lap and just  _ hugged _ him and murmured something that just  _ sounded _ soothing in Almyran. Lorenz buried his face in Claude’s hair and breathed in the sweet spices that was Claude’s natural scent and clung to him. He knew that his parents wouldn’t be executed by burning--they likely would simply get the executioner’s axe--but destroying their belongings felt a bit like burning them in effigy, and it was both cathartic and opened dozens of small, scabbed-over wounds. 

Would it have come to this if he had been a better son? Could he have done something else, anything else, to avoid this outcome? The answer was, of course--he could have been a Proper Gloucester and killed them himself, but the mere thought made him feel sick to his stomach. 

_ I will not let them hold me back anymore, _ Lorenz thought and pressed a kiss to Claude’s head.  _ Their misdeeds die with them and I can leave behind their legacy here in Fodlan. I’m going to start a life with Claude, and...and it will be an  _ adventure.

“Lorenz?” Claude asked when Lorenz pulled away slightly, but any further questions were silenced by a long, languid kiss that left them both panting when it finally broke. 

“Thank you,” Lorenz said softly, trying to infuse as much warmth and love into his voice as possible. “Now, there’s still plenty to do before our engagement party.”

Claude’s face darkened a number of shades even as he gave a blindingly bright smile. “Yes! Let’s get to it, then.”

Because he liked holding Claude and wasn’t in the mood to let go of him, Lorenz simply shifted his hold on Claude and stood with him in a bridal-carry. Claude laughed and nuzzled Lorenz’s neck as Lorenz left the room with the smoldering ash of his parents’ lives and headed to his study. They passed a few household members along the way, who all seemed various shades of  _ amused _ ; Lorenz paid their giggles and whispers no mind, and Claude merely gave them a jaunty wave as they passed. 

Lorenz put Claude down gently on the sofa when they reached his study, then looked around the place, a twinge of loss and longing hitting him. He had built this place specifically for himself, and now he was leaving it. 

He also couldn’t take the lemon tree with him, and that was weirdly distressing. He  _ liked _ that tree, because it showed that he could take care of things and they wouldn’t immediately wither and die on him. The lemons were actually even a bit sweeter than most, at least according to his staff. 

“You know that Portia and the household will take good care of everything,” Claude said and stood, wrapping an arm around Lorenz’s waist and leaning into his body.

“I know, but…” Lorenz sighed. “How did you deal with coming to Fodlan?”

“I knew that bringing anything  _ too _ Almyran with me would cause problems, so it was actually easier--I also wanted to learn as much as I could about the realities of Fodlanese culture. Mom...didn’t like talking much about her own homeland. I think she wanted me to be as Almyran as possible so that I’d be accepted. Until my Crest manifested in an undeniable way, all she and dad would tell me was that she had run away from home to marry my dad and left her old life behind. She never  _ hid _ that she was Fodlanese, but...”

Lorenz hummed and pressed a quick kiss to Claude’s head. “My father must have been particularly dreadful to her. I’m sorry.”

“Not something that  _ you _ are responsible for apologizing for,” Claude said firmly. “Now, c’mon. Let’s put together your pack of ‘essentials.’ We should also think about what you won’t be able to find easily in Almyra…”

“Perhaps I should get Rosalind to write out some recipes,” Lorenz murmured and let go of Claude to wander into his writing room.

Having the limit of what he could carry comfortably really forced him to be discriminatory as to what he could bring, but eventually he put together two bags of things that he knew he would end up desperately missing. They took a brief lunch after finishing the first bag, but the second took much longer due to having to figure out which  _ books _ he could feasibly take with him. By the time he was finished fully packing, it was late in the afternoon. 

“You keep on looking sadly at that tree. Why?” Claude asked as they lounged on the couch together.

“Does Almyra have lemons?”

“No, that’s a fruit from Brigid. Is that a  _ lemon _ tree?”

“Yes,” Lorenz said. “It was a gift and...I actually managed to keep it alive. It flourished under  _ my _ care, even with these hands. It’s precious to me because it showed me that  _ I _ could care for things and that they would do well when tended to by me.”

“Love,” Claude said, his voice soft and sad as he lightly brushed his fingertips against Lorenz’s cheek. “Look at how well the Alliance did under you care. Surely that showed you that you are a good caretaker?”

Lorenz smiled wryly. “I was brought up to care for nations. I was never taught how to tend to...to...to relationships, to living things, to the health and welfare of people close to me.”

“You’ve done a pretty good job so far with me,” Claude said. 

“Only because you are exceptionally forgiving,” Lorenz said and caught Claude’s hand to press a kiss to it. 

There was a knock at the study door and a call of, “Are you decent?”

“We’re both fully clothed,” Lorenz drawled in reply, his face heating slightly as Claude snickered.

Portia stuck her head in with a cheshire smile and said, “Sorry, you just mildly scandalized the poor maid coming to get you for dinner yesterday. Although the story of how she discovered you two has become more torrid with each telling.”

Lorenz’s blush deepened. “Claude was only naked from the waist up and we were kissing.”

“When she walked in,” Claude muttered quietly enough that only Lorenz could hear. “I remember distinctly you putting your hand down my pants.”

Lorenz scoffed and replied in the same low tone, “Well, if you weren’t such a delight to touch and temptation incarnate, perhaps it would be easier to abstain from fondling you.”

“Uh-huh,” Claude said, fighting back a smile. 

“What are you whispering about?” Portia asked, clearly suspicious.

“Nothing,” Lorenz replied. “Are you here to escort us to my going away party?”

“Don’t you mean engagement party?” Portia said and gestured to the ring that Lorenz wore. 

“That too,” Lorenz said as Claude intertwined their fingers and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Ah, right. Here. The Count’s signet ring is yours for should you choose to marry.”

Lorenz took off the ring and held it out to Portia.

Portia crossed the room to them and gently picked it out of Lorenz’s palm. She examined the ring and tucked it into the pockets she had sewn into her skirts. “You know you’re always welcome to come back here, right? I’m not kicking you out or anything…”

“I know, I’m  _ abdicating _ ,” Lorenz said with a small smile. His hand felt...lighter, and, weirdly enough, so did his heart. “Nothing is being done against my will.I have...I have chosen Claude. I have chosen to...I have chosen  _ love _ .”

Portia sighed wistfully as Claude pressed a quick kiss to Lorenz’s cheek.

“I need to find a poet for my spouse,” Portia said. “Now, come along. I hope you still have some space in your bags, since everyone has a good luck charm passed down in their family that they want to give you for a safe journey and a happy marriage.”

Lorenz was flustered to discover that they had  _ decorated _ the Great Hall with in-season flowers and a banner with misspelled Congratulations (it read ‘Cogratsulations’ but people had found it too funny to fix so had left it) hanging above a table laden with all of Lorenz’s favorite dishes. There was also an elaborate cake, and someone--Rosalind was not the baker of the household, but Lorenz wasn’t sure who exactly was--had managed to throw together rather crude likenesses of both himself and Claude in fondant to place on the top of the cake.

Lorenz stood in the midst of the people who seemed to  _ genuinely _ be wishing for his happiness, bewildered; thus, to avoid being embarrassed by not exactly knowing how to respond, he opened the wine cellars and broke out some of the best vintage they had, to the delight of everyone in attendance. 

Lorenz wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from the celebration, but it turned out to involve a lot of food, alcohol, prying questions into his sex life, and learning commoner dances. He liked to  _ think _ he was fairly graceful, but there was so much more energy and vigor to the dances he was learning that it was sometimes hard to keep up with the speed; the steps were easy, the patterns basic, but it was expected to be done with fervor and flair that Lorenz was unaccustomed to.

Claude, naturally, was thoroughly enjoying himself and being, by turns, very helpful and extremely not, depending on the dance. There were, after all, some he was unfamiliar with as well, and having two people with two left feet just left Claude laughing breathlessly and Lorenz frustrated with himself. 

“Come now, dancing is supposed to be  _ fun _ ,” Claude said as they caught their breath and accepted a refill of wine from a passing household member. “Perfection isn’t the point.”

“Yes, it is,” Lorenz groused and took a sip. 

“No, it isn’t,” Claude insisted. “You’re just so used to everyone  _ watching _ you that anything less than perfection is seen as a failing. I  _ understand _ that, but...the people who care that you’re not perfect are usually assholes and you should pay them no mind.”

Lorenz shook his head, bemused. “I suppose. What do you think of the cake topper?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Claude chuckled. “Hey, Lorenz?”

“Yes, my love?”

Claude smiled at that, then said, “I know you thanked me for seducing you, but I wanted to thank  _ you _ for letting yourself be seduced. Everything I’ve learned about your past says that you should have been  _ vehemently _ against any kind of relationship with me, and yet...not only did you agree to be in a relationship, you agreed to be my  _ husband _ and that...I can’t think of a better outcome for my life.”

“Claude,” Lorenz sighed and reached over to tug Claude close, grasping the far side of his sash and holding him close. “Do not thank me. I have likely only complicated your already complicated life.”

“Only in the best of ways,” Claude replied firmly.

“What are you two doing just  _ standing _ here?” Portia said, interrupting the moment. “You’re both the guests of honor, you’ll have plenty of time for canoodling later. We’ll let you sleep in so you can luxuriate in each other into the mid-morning if you want. But, c’mon, you have to give everyone a dance so they can say  _ they _ had a dance with the King of Almyra and his Prince Consort. The household will be insufferable at parties and it will be  _ glorious _ .”

Lorenz laughed and set aside his and Claude’s glasses and followed Portia back to the dance floor, keeping his hand resting on Claude’s waist until the moment before the dances began again.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW** : _spicy stuff_ : Anal sex. _Other_ : Nothing, actually.
> 
> Short transition chapter is short. Once might even consider this a pwp chapter, but it is the farewell to the Gloucester Manse. Not Fodlan yet--there are still a few more chapters--but this is the end of our time in Gloucester Manse.
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to every one read, comments, kudos, subscribes, bookmarks, whatever--I appreciate your patronage. Additionally, FE:3H still doesn't belong to me in any way.

Lorenz didn’t feel any different, waking up affianced to the most remarkable man he had ever met, which was slightly a let down. However, there was something to be said for being woken by Claude lightly tracing the curves and dips of his (Lorenz’s) musculature with his (Claude's) fingertips, his gaze hot and consuming. 

“Good morning,” Lorenz murmured, and reached over to Claude to gently cup his face in his palm. “What exactly are you scheming?”

“Scheming?” Claude responded after he pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s palm, a smirk forming on his lips. “What makes you think I’m  _ scheming _ anything?”

“You’re looking at me the same way you looked at the cake yesterday, as if trying to figure out the best way to start eating.”

Claude chuckled, then shifted and rolled so he was half suspended over Lorenz, his hands on either side of Lorenz’s torso, although made sure that his wrists were touching Lorenz’s arms. Lorenz reached up and ran his fingers through Claude’s hair; Claude pressed a quick kiss to Lorenz’s wrist, which made Lorenz smile.

“So,” Claude said. “I was thinking that we should make love in your bed at least  _ once _ before you leave Gloucester Manse for good.”

Lorenz’s face promptly burned and he cleared his throat before saying, “You mean you would like me to…?”

“You’ve already done it with your fingers,” Claude pointed out. “And we’re engaged, so  _ basically _ married, and that was your condition on making love, if I recall correctly. So...what’s keeping you from taking this last step?”

Lorenz rubbed his cheek in embarrassment as he tried to organize his thoughts. He was torn between a desperate, clawing  _ need _ to be in Claude, to leave his seed in Claude’s body, claiming him finally, fully, completely, and sick, cloying fear engendered by fact that the last time he had done something similar, the person had eventually  _ died _ , had cried quietly all while glaring daggers at him during the act. 

“I...I want to,” Lorenz admitted after squirming for a solid, silent minute. “But…”

“But?”

“The last person I had sex with died.”

“Well, isn’t it good we’re not going to be  _ having sex _ , hm?” Claude said. “And your dreaming-self is even less subtle than your conscious self, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh no,” Lorenz said quickly, horrified with himself. “What did I  _ do _ ?”

“Nothing bad! Nothing bad,” Claude reassured. “You just, er...well, you  _ really _ want kids, don’t you?”

Lorenz grimaced and groaned. “Don’t tell me I said something or touched you inappropriately or--”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Claude said, his face darkening. “ I noticed that when you hold me when you’re cuddling and dreaming, it seems like your hands always go to my stomach and murmured half-sentences like ‘has your eyes’ kinda points to a particular kind of dream.”

Lorenz groaned in mortification. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Claude replied. “You’re always  _ very _ hard during those dreams, too, and feeling your erection pressing against me makes  _ my _ brain go down particular avenues.”

“I’ll try to...manage my expectations better,” Lorenz said. “I know it’s nonsensical and impossible.”

“You were probably raised to want kids and we’re going to be married, it’s  _ okay _ to project those expectations on me, I don’t care,” Claude said. “You always sound so...tender...too, whenever you sleep-talk during those dreams, it makes my heart hurt. You’re this...you’re like a chocolate truffle or something. You’ve got a hard, decorative, attractive shell, but inside you’re just a delicious gooey mess.”

Lorenz snorted, unable to keep himself from smiling. “A chocolate truffle, huh?”

“Hey, you’re the poet, not me.”

“Indeed,” Lorenz said. He took a deep breath, let it out in a heavy sigh and said, “Do we...do we have good enough lubrication to, ah, make love? The absolutely last thing I want to do is hurt you even slightly. I also...don’t think I’d be able to last terribly long so I should probably get you fairly close to orgasm before I, um...enter...you…”

Lorenz felt a little dizzy from how badly he was blushing, and the only consolation was that Claude looked almost equally overwhelmed. 

Claude sighed heavily and flumped down on top of Lorenz’s body, burying his face in Lorenz’s chest. “Just so you know, I am  _ so damn hard _ right now just  _ thinking _ about having you inside me,” Claude muttered into his skin.

Lorenz’s hand reflexively went to Claude’s head and he ran his fingers through Claude’s hair. “You would...you would let me, even knowing that I’m not ready to let you in me? You won’t feel like I’m denying you something you’re owed?”

“You  _ owe _ me nothing,” Claude said firmly and looked up. “I love you. And as for hurting me...so, I think I’ve come up with a way around you being concerned about that.”

“Oh?”

“Remember how I said there’s a sex position where one partner is said to ride the other? I’ll do that. All  _ you _ have to do is give me your dick and I will control how fast and hard I go and you will just experience it. And don’t worry about coming too soon, you seem to have a decently short refractory period, so I’m kinda curious if I could make you come multiple times while chasing my pleasure.”

Lorenz’s body couldn’t decide if it wanted him blushing or aroused, so he simply felt a bit like he was drowning. “I...suppose that would work, wouldn’t it? It feels...selfish, though.”

“Which you are allowed to be,” Claude said. “And I don’t think  _ I’ll _ last terribly long either. This’ll be my first time, too, you know.”

“If you make me blush any harder, I am going to faint,” Lorenz groaned.

Claude  _ aw _ ed and said, “Well, we can’t have that. Think I can ask you to prepare me to receive you?”

Lorenz cried out in embarrassment and dragged Claude into a kiss just to get him to  _ shut up _ . He could feel that Claude was indeed as aroused as he said he was, and Claude moaned into the kiss, meeting Lorenz’s desperation and passion with his own. 

Lorenz held him close, then rolled so Claude was on his back and he was semi-supported over Claude, but was sure to never break the kiss. Claude’s kiss somehow became  _ more _ needy and impassioned, and he managed to draw a hum of appreciation from Lorenz. 

When the kiss finally broke, they were both breathing hard. Claude’s eyes were clouded with lust, and he said, “Hey, I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

“While you prepare me, why don’t I suck your dick? That way there will be a little extra lubrication when I take you into me.”

“As long as you promise not to bring me to completion,” Lorenz panted. “How do you see us accomplishing your plan?”

“I lay here, and you are on your hands and knees above me, your dick in my face as your head is at my crotch. That should work, right?”

“I...it’s worth a try?”

“Exactly,” Claude said cheerfully. “Go ahead, turn around, get to work.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lorenz said, amused, and did as requested. 

Claude was already leaking precum, so Lorenz swiped some of the liquid off the tip of Claude’s erection--which caused Claude to flinch and moan--before applying it to the skin outside of Claude’s anus. Lorenz paused, then stuck two of his fingers into his own mouth and lubricated them as he felt Claude put light pressure on the small of his back, pushing his hips down and presumably towards his waiting mouth. 

Claude was  _ exceptionally _ skilled with his mouth in all manner of things, and Lorenz groaned as he felt Claude’s tongue taste the head of his own phallus. 

_ No orgasm until you’re inside Claude’s body, _ he told himself firmly and took out his fingers to examine them, deciding that they would work for now. He found Claude’s sphincter and slowly pushed his first finger in. Claude hummed and Lorenz’s skin prickled as he shoved down his arousal by focusing on the task of preparing Claude. It was still a fight to keep himself from thrusting down into Claude’s mouth, and the muffled cry of ecstasy he provoked in Claude sent waves of sensation up Lorenz’s spine--he must have already found the special spot inside him.

Lorenz quickly added a second finger and scissored his fingers within Claude while also looking for the special spot again; after a bit of stimulation that had Claude panting around his phallus and clearly distracted, Lorenz, out of an abundance of caution, added a third finger, then spread his fingers inside Claude, pushing against the warmth and tightness. The absolutely  _ last _ thing he wanted to do was hurt Claude, so he’d do all he could to prevent that. Claude bucked under him and had to pull away from tending to Lorenz’s erection to say, “Oh gods, Lorenz, I’m ready for you, I’m  _ ready _ . Lay down so I can mount you.”

Claude phrasing it that way made a surprisingly pleasurable shiver work its way through Lorenz, and he pulled his fingers out of Claude, who let out a shuddering sigh when he did so, then shifted so he was lying on his back, his own erection slick with precum and Claude’s saliva, standing proudly at attention.

Claude promptly straddled him, then reached down and held Lorenz’s erection as he slowly oriented himself so the head of Lorenz’s phallus rested against his sphincter. 

“We’re really doing this,” Claude murmured, something like awe laced with greedy  _ need _ in his voice.

“I love you, Claude,” Lorenz said, reaching out to rest his hand on Claude’s thigh.

Claude looked at him and smiled, the expression tender. “I love you, too.” Claude took a breath, then slowly began to sink down onto Lorenz’s erection.

Lorenz was transfixed as he watched himself disappear into Claude’s body, the warmth and pressure divine; nothing compared to the soft sounds of surprise and pleasure that escaped Claude, though, nor the cautious bliss on his face, a kind of intense curiosity intertwined with a bit of overwhelm, relief, and trembling disbelief. Once Claude settled against his hips and he (Lorenz) was fully sheathed in Claude, they were both breathing hard; Claude’s grip on his own phallus looked rather painful, and it was taking all of Lorenz’s concentration to not immediately come  _ hard _ . It was so new, so raw, so  _ wonderful,  _ seeing that Claude was  _ enjoying _ himself, that the sensation that he (Lorenz) was able to provide was something  _ pleasurable _ . 

Then Claude tentatively, slowly began to move, and all coherent thought was obliterated. All that existed was Claude, how his body seemed to conform to the penetration, his breathless moans the sweetest music. His movements were uncoordinated, and Lorenz slipped out more than once, but that was met with simply a chuckle and readjustment before Claude started up again. 

For the first time, Lorenz’s mind was deafeningly quiet. There was simply nothing more important, more fascinating, more engrossing than Claude, than him chasing his  _ pleasure, _ pleasure that he--Lorenz Hellman Gloucester!--was providing for him. He was both simultaneously painfully aware of how badly his body wanted orgasm and feeling weirdly detached from everything because surely  _ he  _ couldn’t be providing the sensations that were causing such  _ positive _ reactions from another person. He wasn’t sure whether or not Claude could come from just that stimulation alone and felt rather useless simply  _ lying _ there, so reached out and began to stroke Claude’s erection in time to his movements. Claude  _ wheezed _ and his motions sped up slightly.

It took no time--it lasted forever--before Claude gasped and his body arched as he breathed Lorenz’s name like a kind of prayer as a stripe of semen from Claude’s orgasm appeared across Lorenz’s torso; Claude’s body tightening even more on him and Lorenz hearing his name whispered so reverently hit home that  _ his body _ had been used to give another  _ pleasure _ and Lorenz’s own body finally  _ released _ . Lorenz had thought his orgasms had been pretty good before, but the physical sensation was compounded by a soaring joy that someone had felt  _ good _ because of him, had found completion using  _ his _ body in particular. He had given Claude pleasure before with mouth and hands, but that someone could use his form--which he was half convinced was built merely to hurt others--to find  _ ecstasy _ meant so much more. 

“Why are you crying?” Claude panted after a moment’s stunned silence.

Lorenz wiped his face, surprised, then started laughing. “These are not sad tears. I...I gave you pleasure. You came by using  _ me _ , by riding  _ my body _ . I gave you something good, you enjoyed yourself because of something  _ I _ could provide to you. It is...glorious? You looked, look, even more handsome than you usually do.”

Claude smiled in relief, his body gleaming with sweat, his hair sticking to his neck and forehead. “Is that so?”

“Oh, yes,” Lorenz said with  _ feeling _ . “You...you do know that I’m still i-inside you, right?”

“Mmhm,” Claude confirmed with a bright smile. “I like you there. I’m personally astonished you lasted until  _ I _ came.”

“I was determined,” Lorenz half-lied. Telling Claude that he was able to last as long as he did because he couldn’t entirely  _ believe _ it was real that Claude was having fun as a result of  _ his _ body would ruin the mood.

“Can you sit up a little so I can kiss you comfortably?” Claude asked. With a little bit of maneuvering and supporting his back with pillows, Lorenz was able to do so in spite of Claude refusing to move off of him in any real way, and the slight change in angle of penetration sent shivers up and down Lorenz’s spine; how Claude looked  _ pleased _ and the soft sigh that escaped him said that it had been intentional. 

“Claude,” Lorenz pseudo-scolded, but any further words were silenced by Claude’s kiss. Claude’s hands carefully roamed his torso as they kissed, and Lorenz felt like he was drowning in  _ Claude _ , every fiber of his being somehow hyper-attuned to the other man, and before he knew it he could feel heat pooling in his stomach. Claude’s skillful, teasing fingers found all the places on him that  _ he _ had enjoyed touching, and between the tenderness in the touches and the  _ passion _ in the kisses, Lorenz was certain that he was going to melt or explode or  _ something _ . All he could do was cling to Claude and meet his intensity with his own.

“Think you’re ready for round two?” Claude panted when they came up for air. 

“Again?” Lorenz said breathlessly. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” Claude said in a low purr.

“Do you want me to…?”

“No, this position works fine,” Claude said. “It, ah...you hit that spot inside me more easily like this.”

“Oh,” Lorenz said weakly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re doing all the work…?”

“Are you kidding me? This isn’t work, this is  _ fun _ ,” Claude said and began to initially just rock their hips as he nudged Lorenz into another kiss. When he started riding Lorenz more in earnest, the kiss necessarily had to break, but that just left Lorenz’s mouth available to leave kisses on Claude’s neck and shoulder. Claude groaned happily at that and moved  _ faster _ , which caused Lorenz to hiss and shiver as waves of  _ sensation _ washed through him. 

His hands fell to Claude’s hips, and he didn’t  _ mean _ to push Claude down with a little more force, but the sharp cry that came from Claude wasn’t of pain, but of pleased surprise. The sense of  _ possessiveness  _ had been quiet the first time because of how far outside Lorenz’s normal experience the whole thing had been, but he was  _ close _ to Claude now, could readily taste his skin and sweat, could leave biting, bruising kisses at the junction of neck and shoulder, easily concealed, could  _ touch _ and  _ hold _ . It was delightful. He wanted  _ more _ . He wanted  _ all _ of Claude.

Claude was  _ his _ . He had come in him once, he would come in him again and again until there was no doubt who his body belonged to, would leave marks that Claude would  _ feel _ and  _ know _ even if no one else could see them. Since he didn’t have a ring to give Claude, such transient physical marks would have to do to remind him who he had promised himself to.

The sound of flesh-meeting-flesh was much louder, and Claude tended to exhale sharp curses each time their bodies met, his expression twisted in a mask of tortured pleasure. He rode Lorenz, who brought him down  _ hard _ on him, driving deeper into his body; based on how Claude’s body arched and a cry of pure  _ lust _ escaped him, he had at last found that special place. Claude dissolved into incoherence and simply  _ clung _ to Lorenz as he deliberately hit that spot over and over until he felt Claude’s whole body tense and shudder and warm stickiness coated his stomach. 

Claude coming and how  _ bonelessly _ he fell against him prompted Lorenz’s own orgasm; it hit him like a kick to his ribs, and he buried his face in Claude’s neck as he let loose within Claude.

Claude, perversely, giggled and said, “I think I can feel you twitching inside me.”

Lorenz groaned into Claude’s skin and he said, “Don’t  _ say _ things like that.”

They were breathing  _ much _ harder, and a thousand questions and apologies were on Lorenz’s tongue, but Claude occupied it with his own for long enough that he forgot what the questions were.

“That was  _ delightful _ ,” Claude said, his voice low and rough as he pushed a stray strand of hair out of Lorenz’s face. “I can’t wait to try out more positions with you, but I think--I think this is my limit for now.”

Lorenz nodded in emphatic understanding. His body was more than ready to pull itself together for another go, until he saw his semen leaking out of Claude, but that would be unfair to Claude and would likely hurt him, so he shut up the part of him that wanted to become aroused again. Now that they had crossed  _ this _ particular threshold, there was literally nothing keeping him from exploring more of it whenever they happened to come across a bed--he was  _ not _ having sex outdoors. 

“Let me bathe you,” Lorenz said. 

Claude actually chuckled at that and pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s forehead. “You’re the dirtier one, my love. Is it bad that I think you look good with my cum drawing patterns of passion across your body?”

Lorenz shivered. “When you put it that way, no.”

“But, you’re right, we should get cleaned up,” Claude agreed. “Oh damn I forgot we’d start  _ riding _ again today.”

“I...didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Oh, no,” Claude said and that prompted him to remove himself from Lorenz, the lewd squelch that accompanied the removal made Lorenz swallow hard--he did  _ not _ expect that to be arousing, and felt bad that he found it so. 

Claude’s face had darkened a few shades as well and he stood rather gingerly and walked to the cord and pulled it the number of times for ‘b’. Lorenz was watching him with narrow-eyed intensity as he moved about and picked up Lorenz’s robe and the pair of sleep pants that he had pseudo-claimed. There was no blood, although he did seem to be moving more carefully, and his hand did brush his lower back more than once, particularly when he bent,and Lorenz’s expression snapped into a frown when Claude froze and his face darkened even further.

“Are you okay? Did I actually hurt you? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t--” Lorenz started, but Claude held a hand up in a request for silence, so Lorenz stopped.

“Okay, I’m a  _ little _ sore, but I’m not  _ hurt _ ,” Claude admitted. “But what made me stop was, um…” he swallowed, then buried his face in his hands as a flustered sound escaped him. Once he regained his composure, he looked to Lorenz and said, “I think I’m leaking  _ you _ , and it feels weird.”

Lorenz was torn between wanting to die with embarrassment and almost smug pleasure. His more possessive side insisted that such was, after all, the right way of things, for Claude to be so filled with his seed that he couldn’t walk without being reminded of that fact. 

“Oh,” was all Lorenz managed to say, and his voice carried all the conflicting emotions that were rattling around in him. 

“It’s not bad! I don’t mind! I just...should have expected it, I guess?” Claude said as he pulled on the sleep pants. He picked up a spare handkerchief and walked over to Lorenz; after handing Lorenz his robe, he cleaned off the drying semen with the handkerchief, and also did a quick wipe of Lorenz’s phallus. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For doing that,” Claude said and sat back down next to Lorenz. “For trusting yourself. For trusting me.”

Lorenz hesitantly placed an arm around Claude, who promptly leaned into his body, pressing a quick kiss to Lorenz’s neck before snuggling closer.

There was a knock at the door eventually, and Lorenz had to move Claude off his lap to answer it--the other man just seemed to ooze onto his lap given the opportunity. Desdemona stood there with a tray of tea and a couple other servants with the water, and Lorenz let them all in. 

“Do you need laundry done, too?” Desdemona asked as she set up the tea.

“Ah, there is no hurry for it to be done, but that might not be a bad idea,” Lorenz said.

“I’d like these pants laundered if they’ll be dry in time for us to leave?” Claude said, a light blush on his face. 

Desdemona quirked an eyebrow, but considered the request and said, “I’m not sure they’d be dry, depending on when we leave. I imagine you’d want to leave mid-morning to afternoon?”

“That would be best in terms of travel,” Lorenz said. “I do have a few things I’d like to take care of, but it won’t take long.”

Desdemona nodded and said, “Well, we’re ready whenever you are. Would you like breakfast to be delivered?”

“No, pack a breakfast we can eat while riding,” Lorenz said. “I think His Majesty has spent long enough away from his homeland and if I don’t leave soon, I might fall prey to my doubts about leaving.”

“Very well,” Desdemona said. “Oh, this is so exciting!”

Lorenz went to the table where his tea was set up and Claude promptly climbed in his lap once settled, and they shared the tea as the bath was prepared. Desdemona was giving them an exasperated, affectionate look, but waited and supervised the set-up of their bath. She stayed until all the other servants had left before giving a flourishing curtsy and closing the door behind her as she left.

“She’s certainly a character,” Claude said, clearly amused.

“Indeed,” Lorenz agreed. “Come, time to bathe.”

Claude chuckled and shed the pants as he walked over to the bathroom, and Lorenz couldn’t help but admire him for a moment before following. The bath was half-cuddling, half-cleaning, and Lorenz watched him anxiously for even the slightest sign of discomfort. Claude seemed  _ flustered _ by his intense consideration, occasionally just turning into Lorenz’s body and hiding his face in his (Lorenz’s) neck or chest, and Lorenz could  _ feel _ his blush. 

“I sort of don’t want this to end,” Claude murmured when the water had long gone cold. 

“The bath or your time when you’re not under constant, invasive, unpleasant scrutiny?”

“Both?” Claude offered and sighed. “What do you need to do?”

“One thing I need to do is to show Portia my father’s study and destroy any Agarthan artifacts. The other is more...complicated.”

“Complicated?”

Lorenz was silent for a long moment before he said, “There’s a grave I need to visit.”

“You have a graveyard here?”

“Naturally. All the Gloucesters are buried on our property unless they died in a conflict and found their grave elsewhere,” Lorenz said. “But, I’m not going to our family mausoleum. There is…” Lorenz sighed heavily. “I’m going to visit the mass grave where my father buried...inconveniences...or mistresses who died as a result of his  _ affections _ . I think those who did not survive my mother’s experiments were buried there, too. So was...so was the first person I loved romantically. I feel that...it would be good to honor her memory when I have ignored it for so long.”

Claude looked  _ sad _ , but nodded resolutely. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“I…” Lorenz sighed  _ again _ . “No. Not for this. I need you, but...I also need to do this myself. For her memory.”

“Alright. We should end the bath, too, my fingers are all pruned now.”

Lorenz chuckled and nudged Claude. “You’re the one keeping me here. Please stand so I can get out.”

Claude initially ignored the request to give Lorenz a languid, lingering kiss before doing as asked. Claude allowed Lorenz to dry him off to do one final check that all of Claude was  _ okay _ ; Lorenz was mildly concerned and confused when Claude insisted on helping Lorenz dress. 

“You’re going to do a difficult thing and you’re doing it alone,” Claude said once he finally figured out why Lorenz was giving him odd looks. “I  _ want _ to be there with you, but I understand that you might not want to bring your fiance when saying goodbye to your first love.”

“Right,” Lorenz said. “I...thank you for understanding.”

“Think nothing of it,” Claude said and pressed a kiss to Lorenz’s cheek. “I’ll be overseeing everything getting packed in the stables, so just meet me there when you’re done,” Claude said. He stood on tip-toe again and pressed a soft kiss to Lorenz’s lips before nudging him towards the door.

The mass grave for the commoners who worked as household members was a little bit of a ways into the forest surrounding Gloucester Manse, but Lorenz didn’t mind the walk. He knew the location only because he had tried to convince his parents to bury Rachelle and and their child’s ashes someplace more dignified, but she had simply been added to the same field as everyone else who died in ‘service’ of his family. He idly wished he had lilies to put on the grave, but roses would have to do, since there had been a few bushes in bloom as he passed the Rose Garden. It took a good fifteen minutes of walking through sometimes difficult terrain, but eventually he broke out into a large, open field. It was uneven in many places, and was thickly covered in wildflowers. 

He hadn’t been  _ entirely _ joking when he told Claude that bodies made good fertilizer. 

Lorenz walked over to the small headstone that marked the field as the final resting place for the servants of the Gloucester Manse and placed the bundle of flowers in front of the simple monument. He was silent for a long moment before he sighed and said, “I’m sorry it took me so long to visit you. Visit  _ all _ of you. I know my apologies are meaningless, that they come too late for all of you buried here. But, perhaps your spirits will be glad to know that things are changing. I’m sure you’ve noticed there haven’t been any additions since I came into power--the household has their own mausoleum now and are interred with dignity, as they always should have been. My elder sister, Portia, is currently Countess Gloucester. She was raised as a commoner, so she has a...different perspective, and a good one, I think. She will do well by our people. My parents are going to be tried and, likely, executed by the Church, so you will have at least that much satisfaction.”

Lorenz sighed. “Rachelle, I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry my parents used you to hurt me. I’m sorry that you weren’t able to live a full life, to find love, to be happy. The people of Sreng believe that our souls are reincarnated, so I hope that...if you have found your way back to here, that you find the kind of life and satisfaction that was denied you while employed by my family.”

Lorenz stood in silence for a while, simmering in an old, impotent pain--exactly how many people laid beneath this field? How many deaths could he have prevented? Had his hands truly been as bound as he had thought? Couldn’t he have done something, anything, to decrease the suffering of the household? Would they have accepted the help from him anyway? The old household had been so terrified of his father that they were unflinchingly loyal to him, so it was entirely possible that his offers for help would have fallen on deaf or unwilling ears. 

He let out a long, deep sigh and shook his head. 

_ It’s no use dwelling in the past. I owe it to all those who lost their lives to my family to chart a better path forward, and I think that Portia will do that. _

He gave the expansive field a final polite bow before turning on his heel and finding his way back to the Manse proper. He had one last thing to do. It took a little bit of asking, but he was amused to find that Portia was in his study, apparently hard at work. 

“Lorenz!” she exclaimed, looking embarrassed, guilty, and somewhat relieved all at once when he opened the door after knocking. “You haven’t left yet?”

“No, I had to do something and...I wanted to say goodbye to you,” he said and walked over to her. “And don’t feel bad about using this room. Everything you need in terms of resources are here for the most part. Just...do try to keep my tree alive.”

“Of course, it makes the best lemons,” Portia said, looking to the tree.

After a brief silence, Lorenz asked: “In your exploration, did you discover Phebe’s laboratory and Albany’s library?”

“I definitely discovered the lab,” Portia said, bitterness lacing her voice. “But I wouldn’t know one library from another, I’m afraid.”

Lorenz nodded. “I’ll take you to it, then. You should be aware of it, since I’m pretty sure that Albany hid some...artifacts...from the Agarthans there. I’m going to destroy them.”

“Lead on, then,” Portia said and stood. “Are there any other rooms like that spooky-dungeon?”

“No, that is the only place magic-locked in the Manse,” Lorenz said and closed the door once he and Portia had left the study. “Additionally, it  _ requires _ the Crest of Gloucester, so do be aware if any of our siblings have children who manifest the Crest, since they may accidentally find their way in there.”

Portia grimaced. “I’m sure  _ someone _ will end up having a kid with the Crest. How can you tell?”

“There are blood tests,” Lorenz said. “They’re fairly standard, so if there is a child you think may have a Crest, if you ask for someone from Garreg Mach, they would likely be able to assist. All Crested nobles are registered in the Church’s records. Phebe had a test of her own devising, but that knowledge is now lost with her...departure.” 

Portia muttered something uncomplimentary about their mother under her breath, which Lorenz ignored. It wasn’t too long until they reached Albany’s secret library, and Portia blinked as she stayed outside the room, looking in.

“Yeah, this sure as hell looks like a creepy asshole’s library,” she said dryly. “I mean, what’s with the color scheme? And paintings? And is that an  _ actual _ skull?”

“I never understood my father’s decor decisions either,” Lorenz drawled and stepped inside. “There are a few magical traps I need to disarm so that if someone else finds their way here, they aren’t injured. You can watch if you desire, and if you have any questions lingering about House Gloucester or the territory, now is a good time to ask.”

Albany was the stronger mage, but Lorenz was the smarter between the two of them, so the traps his father had set on his most cherished belongings were easy to break. In one drawer he found a lifetime’s worth of journals, in another a locket with a few strands of hair, and in the third a charcoal sketch of what seemed to be a self-portrait. There were a few bottles of indeterminate liquid that Lorenz had no desire to test, and correspondence with many,  _ many _ lovers--some of them apparently male. 

_ And he threw sodomite at me as an insult, _ Lorenz thought, annoyed.  _ Hypocrite. _

In between deactivating the traps, conversation between he and Portia meandered amongst topics--how to properly care for his lemon tree, ideas for the new Suite, taxation, and harvest scheduling, among other things. Eventually, the library was free of any magical traps, which was some relief, and any suspicious artifacts he had encountered were destroyed.

“There’s no guarantee that there aren’t physical traps I am unaware of,” Lorenz said, “but I do want to get going. If you’d like,  _ I _ can place a magical trap on the door that will deliver a small shock if anyone tries to open the door without dispelling the magic.”

“That...probably would only attract more attention,” Portia said. “The sheer fact that a  _ door _ would give off a shock would likely act like catnip to any troublemaker, since if something is guarded, it’s usually hiding something  _ important _ .”

Lorenz sighed. “You really think so?”

“Humans are odd.”

“So it would seem. Very well. This place is well-hidden and I have done my best to ensure fewer injuries.”

“Thank you, Lorenz,” Portia said with a warm smile. “You really should get going, though, like you said. Do invite me when you’ve settled on a date for your wedding. I’m sure it’ll be spectacular!”

Lorenz laughed, a blush gracing his cheeks. “Yes, well, that’s the hope. And of course I’ll invite you. Please be on the lookout for the invitation.”

Portia surprised Lorenz once again by stepping in and  _ hugging _ him. Lorenz hesitantly returned the gesture, and held her carefully. Eventually Portia gave him a slightly tighter squeeze, then let go. 

“Oh, dear, no need to cry,” Lorenz said and took out his handkerchief to wipe away some of Portia’s tears. “We barely know each other as brother and sister, do not mourn my departure. I’m not  _ dying _ .”

“Still,” Portia said and rubbed her eyes. “I kinda would have liked to get to know you better as my baby brother. Make sure you take vacation in Fodlan sometimes and come and say hello. I swear you’ll have nieces and nephews in no time now that people aren’t afraid to have  _ children _ . I’ll make sure you know all their names.”

“Thank you,” Lorenz said and took a chance and pressed a gentle kiss to Portia’s forehead. “I’ll write you as soon as I get to the palace.”

“Safe travels, and may Sothis watch over you,” Portia said in reply.

“Thank you,” Lorenz said. He gave Portia one, final hug, made sure Albany’s library was securely locked, then went searching for Claude.

Lorenz found Claude waiting and shooting the breeze with Henry, Desdemona, and Ophelia, their horses as well as Shadow ready to leave.

_ This is really it,  _ Lorenz thought as he approached them.  _ This is the start of my new life as Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, fiance to the King of Almyra and Ambassador of the Fodlanese Sovereign. I don’t have to be chained down by my history and I can chart...I can chart a new, brilliant way forward. _

Claude noticed him first, predictably--the man seemed to have a sixth sense for his presence anymore--and gave him a broad, easy smile and a wave before pulling him in for a quick kiss when he reached the group. “Ready to go, my love?”

“Yes,” Lorenz said with firm conviction. “Let’s go. To Garreg Mach, and then Almyra.”

“I can’t wait to show you around my homeland,” Claude said as they all mounted up and started off. “I guess we should step up your lessons in the Almyran language, though.”

“Indeed,” Lorenz said. “I doubt I’ll be fluent,but I want to at least know when people are insulting you so I can take them to task.”

“Me too!” Desdemona said with feeling. “You  _ must _ teach me all the swears so I can tell someone off when they’re being a jerk to you or, uh, Lord Gloucester?”

Claude laughed, and Lorenz refused to look back as they left the Manse proper. In a way, he was glad that no one was there to see him off; a goodbye would be final, would break off all his connections to Fodlan. He didn’t want that--too much of his life, his  _ purpose _ was tied up in Fodlan to never want to return. However, while he knew he would always have someplace to return to, the Manse wasn’t his home, not anymore. Wherever Claude was? 

_ That _ was his home. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mentions of off-screen death, but literally nothing else. This is my first tame chapter in a good while. Just wasn't up to writing sex.
> 
> Thank you always to everyone who read, comments, kudos, bookmarks, whatever, I deeply appreciate you engaging with my work. I could not find the inspiration for things that happen during the days that they are traveling, so we more-or-less skip-traveled to important landmarks and events for the final chapters. I nevertheless hope you enjoy what I've written!
> 
> And, as always, nothing FE:3H belongs to me.

“How does it feel like we were here a lifetime ago?” Lorenz mused as he, Claude, and his mini-household approached the gates of Garreg Mach. 

“It sort of was,” Claude said, smiling faintly. “Isn’t it funny, how quickly some things change while other things move at a glacial pace?”

“Change is easier to affect on an individual level than a societal one,” Lorenz said and reached across the gap to lightly, affectionately tap Claude’s cheek with his fingertips, to a sigh of exaggerated disgust from Desdemona. Apparently, their level of affection--both with words and actions--was infuriating and giving her unrealistic expectations of what to expect upon seducing an Almyran husband. It was always said with the utmost disdain, but the softness in her eyes belied her complaints.

Ophelia was habitually quiet, liking plants and animals much better than humans, and Lorenz had caught her talking to the seedlings and seeds they carried with them for inclusion in the Almyran Royal Gardens and encouraging them to stay strong in the face of dangerous travel. Lorenz didn’t  _ think _ she was casting any magic, but also didn’t care if she was.

Henry seemed thrilled simply to be out and about and traveling; his bad leg made it hard to walk terribly far, and horses were for  _ nobles _ , so he hadn’t seen much outside the village closest to the Gloucester Manse and then the Manse itself. He was constantly peppering Claude with questions, all of which Claude seemed more than happy to answer--apparently Lorenz intimidated him. 

It had been relaxed but purposeful travel, primarily because they didn’t want to end up catching up with the contingent of Knights and his parents, but they still covered the distance to the Monastery in the typical amount of time. As they were arriving during the mid-morning, they were instantly recognized and allowed in by the soldiers standing watch. Lorenz was getting  _ looks _ , though, which likely said that his parents had arrived and were probably being...difficult. 

_ I wish they’d behave, _ Lorenz thought bitterly.  _ But they are likely badmouthing me to anyone who passes by wherever they are being held. Where  _ would _ they be held here? _

“We will be staying the night in the surrounding village,” Lorenz told his household as they were directed to the stables. “But, I’m sure this is the first time any of you have been to Garreg Mach. Please take the time to look around. You can, of course, stay with me if you’d prefer that--we’re going to go visit the Knight-Commander and find out who is part of my security detail. I would like to have a private conversation with Ferdinand, however, assuming he is available.”

“I’ll stay with the horses until we’re ready to get a room at the inn, if that’s okay with you,” Henry said. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable just walking around someplace with so much  _ history _ .”

“Whatever would please you is fine,” Lorenz said and looked to Ophelia and Desdemona. “There is a greenhouse here that has plants from all over Fodlan as well as some from Duscur and Brigid, so you might find that interesting, Lili?”

Ophelia’s eyes lit up at the prospect of  _ plants _ , and as soon as she had dismounted from her horse, she was asking for directions to the greenhouse from a passing knight.

“I’ve always wanted to see the Cathedral here--I’ve heard such stories about its beauty,” Desdemona said. “So,  _ I _ will do some sightseeing, and we’ll pick up everyone else once you’re done with your business. Good luck and see you later.”

“To Alois first?” Claude asked once their horses were tended to. 

“Yes, and then I’d like to find Ferdinand,” Lorenz said, offering Claude his hand.

“To tell him about our engagement?” Claude asked as he intertwined their fingers.

“And ask where he purchased the ring that the Sovereign wears. I approve of its style and Ferdinand has impeccable taste himself, so...”

Claude’s face immediately darkened as he smiled broadly. “Well, then. Let’s see who’ll be accompanying us from the Knights and then you can go get your jewelry recommendation.”

It was still odd, feeling the different band and stone pattern of his engagement ring, and while wearing it under his gauntlets meant that no one else could see it, he was constantly aware of its presence and significance. His mini-household had begun to play a game of, as Desdemona put it, ‘spot-the-hickey’ on Claude since Lorenz disliked there not being the same kind of physical  _ proof _ of their engagement for Claude and Claude didn’t seem to mind; still, Lorenz would feel much better about everything once Claude was wearing his ring. 

After some asking around, they found Alois staring pensively at the fishing pond; the Knight-Commander was looking more than a little harried, and Lorenz felt a twinge of angry guilt--he was sure his parents were adding unnecessary stress to the Knight-Commander’s life. Hopefully judgment would be passed on them soon and he’d have one less thing to worry about.

“Is now a bad time?” Lorenz asked, and Alois looked up from the water, and actually  _ smiled _ at them both.

“Claude, Lorenz! It’s good to see you both well. The knights I recruited for your guard were getting antsy, wondering when you’d be back to pick them off and go on your diplomatic mission,” Alois said. 

“Do I know them?” Lorenz asked.

“Peripherally?” Alois said. “Ashe’s younger sister wanted to be a knight and follow in his footsteps, but chose to serve the Church as a Knight of Seiros, so she will be going with you. Because those families are, ah,  _ close _ , one of Ingrid’s younger brothers will be going with you as well. Among the other two Knights, one is from Sauin village and was inspired by stories of Leonie, and the final is actually a cousin of Petra’s who came to Fodlan because she felt that her cousin’s experiences here made her a stronger person and wanted to experience the world outside the archipelago.”

“Interesting,” Lorenz said. “I’m a little leery about accepting someone from Alliance territory, but if they are from Sauin Village and volunteered because of  _ Leonie _ , I will give them the benefit of the doubt.”

“He’ll do well by you, I promise,” Alois said firmly.

“I do have to ask, though...you are looking a little tired. Are Albany and Phebe giving you and the Knights grief?”

Alois startled, then looked guilty. “Ferdinand hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“They…oh dear. I suppose you should know, I just didn’t think  _ I’d _ be giving you the news.”

“Knight-Commander,” Lorenz said firmly, an unspoken but understood order in the phrase.

“They...they both have already passed. They were buried in graves on the road. It was a murder-suicide; apparently Phebe killed her husband, then herself.”

Lorenz abruptly, inexplicably, felt  _ cold _ . 

_ Dead? They’re....dead? Already? _

“Do you know how?” Lorenz heard himself ask as he felt something shifting and crumbling within him, vibrations felt but the destruction still unseen. 

“She apparently smothered him in his sleep and then dosed herself with poison,” Alois said, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. “The knights that were supposed to be watching them were berated for failing to notice before the deed was done. Are...are you okay, Lorenz?”

“Of course,” Lorenz lied. “I should have expected it, truthfully. Phebe would have never let herself be publicly shamed and executed, and likely thought she was doing Albany a favor by killing him herself. After all, no one else now knows of their downfall, correct?”

“Actually, Seteth, Ferdinand, and Byleth all read the documents you provided and...we’ve been fairly busy because of them.”

Lorenz frowned sharply. “What? Why?”

“They had co-conspirators,” Alois said. “We’ve been chasing down and apprehending them all. There was...apparently a significant portion of old money and blood that took issue with Byleth assuming power in the vacuum left by Claude abdicating. More than one has been apparently stupefied by how  _ difficult _ it has become to hire assassins. Would you know anything about that, Lorenz?”

“Perhaps,” Lorenz said. “And it will continue to be difficult to hire any. How  _ unfortunate _ for these seditionists. I’m sorry that the web of my parent’s deceit was larger and more extensive than I thought. So troublesome, even past death.”

“We are in your debt for keeping such careful track of your parents...misdeeds,” Alois said. “You haven’t just saved Byleth’s life, but also helped interrupt some plots against Sylvain and Ferdinand as well.”

“I want to see Fodlan thrive,” Lorenz said firmly. “I hope that your extra work tapers off soon and that whatever scheme my parents had running is thwarted. Might we meet my security detail?”

“Of course! Follow me.”

They followed Alois to the training yard meant specifically for the Knights, and the appearance of the Knight-Commander--as well as Lorenz and Claude--caught the attention of most of those practicing. Four people immediately peeled away from the group, and Lorenz immediately recognized Ashe and Ingrid’s siblings--there was a strong family resemblance in each one. He recognized the Brigish native by her tattoos, and assumed that the final Knight was the man from Sauin Village. 

“Tyr is Ingrid’s younger brother, Ella is Ashe’s sister, Leonard is from Sauin, and Arianna is Petra’s cousin,” Alois said by way of introduction as the group approached them. The group came to a stop in front of them and all saluted Alois before turning their attention to Lorenz and Claude. 

Lorenz gave them as convincing a smile as he could manage and said, “So, you are the four who will be traveling to Almyra with me? It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“It’s an honor,” Tyr said as Ella gave Lorenz an unsure smile back.

“We were told it’s a semi-permanent position…?” Ella said. 

“I am to marry His Majesty, so, yes, more-or-less,” Lorenz said. “If you wish to be reassigned after serving as my guard for a suitable amount of time, I am sure I can arrange something with the Church. I would not keep you in a position that will leave you dissatisfied.”

Ella quickly raised her hands and said, “Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean it like that! I was just curious because, really, I’ll be the best guard you’ll ever have, I swear it.”

Tyr smirked and said, “Not if I’m better than you.”

“In your dreams,” Ella drawled in reply.

Leonard snickered and said, “Don’t mind them, sirs. Sirs? Is that the right form of address?”

“It works,” Claude said with an easy smile. “Well, it works for me. My love is a little more of a stickler for tradition and he’s your boss, not me. Well?”

“‘My lord’ is the correct form of address,” Lorenz said. “Try to hold to it, but there will be no negative consequences if you forget or use ‘sir’ instead, since that is what you are used to in the Knighthood.”

“Understood,” Arianna said with a nod. 

“We will be leaving for Almyra tomorrow, likely mid-morning,” Lorenz continued. “Please collect all the belongings that you feel you will miss when away and be prepared for multiple weeks on the road. According to my love, it should take about a week or so by horseback to get to the Almyran capital from Fodlan’s Locket, and it should take 5 to 7 days to get from here to Fodlan’s Locket. We will stop by Riverton for a night to obtain any extra supplies and get a night’s sleep without having to worry about keeping watch.”

“Hey, you’re talkin’ about going to Almyra, right?”

Lorenz’s attention shifted to Cyril, who had approached them. 

“I am, yes,” Lorenz confirmed.

“I’ll come with ya,” Cyril said. “I’ve been meanin’ to go back now that I’m older and my old clan would be more likely to listen to me about not abandonin’ their kids when they’re orphaned by stupid raids.” He looked to Claude, and a dry note entered his voice as he said: “I also got the ear of the King, so maybe even more’ll happen.”

Claude coughed in embarrassment. “I like to think that the peace treaty will help decrease the number of orphans from pointless raids by preventing raids in the first place, but there are some clans that need a stern talking-to and they are more likely to listen to kin than the half-foregin king.”

“Then we would be glad to have you along,” Lorenz said. 

“We’re coming too!” said a voice from behind Lorenz, and he turned to see Catherine and Shamir approaching. “We won’t be staying with you the entire time, though. We’ve been told to do some recon work in our new allied territory, start getting people used to a greater Fodlanese presence, and so on.”

“Lysithea is coming along, too,” Cyril said. “Said she was tired of listening to Hanneman and wanted to see the world now that she has her whole life ahead of her.”

“Aha,” Lorenz said, starting to feel an odd, creeping overwhelm. “Perhaps we won’t be stopping at Riverton, then, if we are going to be traveling in a group of...13,” Lorenz said. “If we pick up Linhardt and Caspar along the way, we will be a group of 15.”

“And then add the Almyran honor guard we’ll be getting once we cross the border and we’ll look like a small raiding party,” Claude said, smiling wryly. “Hopefully seeing the royal heraldry will convince anyone we run into that we aren’t hostile…”

“The Almyran ambassador’s children and the ambassador himself have been instructing us in the Almyran language,” Arianna said. “So we can speak...somewhat. More training is needed.”

“Well, at least I’ll have someone else helping teach Almyran,” Claude said, looking to Cyril, who balked visibly.

“Me? Teach?”

“Of course,” Claude said with a smile. “You taught Lysithea, did you not?”

“Well, yes, but--”

“No, no buts about it. I won’t make that a royal order, but I can if necessary.”

It was actually a little funny, hearing Claude claim to be willing to abuse his position just to get someone else to help teach, and Lorenz couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “Very well. Is that everyone now who will be coming with us?”

“Yes,” Shamir said simply. “You said mid-morning tomorrow is our departure?”

“Indeed,” Lorenz confirmed with a nod. “Will you all be traveling on horseback or by foot?”

“I’ll have to see if we have horses to spare,” Alois said, rubbing his mustache pensively. “We might have to lend you pegasi or wyvern if we don’t have enough horses. Would that be acceptable?”

“Wyvern would mesh better with our escort, but I’m sure that many of my people would be fascinated with pegasi,” Claude said. “So, it’ll be fine either way.”

“That’s good to hear,” Alois said, clearly relieved. 

“I have some experience with pegasi and Shamir is good with horses,” Catherine said. “How about the rest of you lot?”

“Lysithea likes her feet on the ground, but if she rides the wyvern with me, she should be okay,” Cyril murmured. 

“I can ride a pegasus,” Arianna said firmly.

“Tyr and I are both good with horses,” Ella commented, to which Leonard added: “Same.”

“So we need...two pegasi, a wyvern, and four horses?” Alois summarized. “I think I can swing that. Ugh,  _ more _ logistics and paperwork.”

Catherine, uncharitably, snickered.

“Well, I look forward to working and traveling with you all,” Lorenz lied. “Why don’t we take dinner together tonight so we can start getting to know each other--by more than reputation.”

“Sounds good to me,” Leonard said. “I’ll get to packin’ and see you then!”

“I look forward to it!” Ella chirped. “C’mon Tyr, let’s get our stuff together, too.”

As she dragged the Galatea son away, Arianna commented dryly, “They are like siblings, not dating,” before wandering off herself. 

“Beloved?” Lorenz said quietly, looking to Claude.

“Hm?”

“I’m going to find Ferdinand now. Where will I find you?”

“Probably checking in on the Almyran ambassador and his kids, so look for me in the admin building--I’ll walk there with you, since I’m sure Ferdinand is stuck there with his spouse.”

“Most likely,” Lorenz agreed and turned to Alois. “Thank you for introducing us to my protectors, and I apologize for making more paperwork for you, Alois.”

“The Captain never mentioned  _ paperwork _ when he spoke of his duties,” Alois groused. 

Lorenz gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, then left, Claude in step with him. There was something  _ pleasant _ in the silence that fell between them, since traveling with even a small household was a much noisier affair. They were still getting curious looks as they walked hand-in-hand, but it seemed that enough people remembered them from their prior visit that it met most often with sighs and eye-rolls from the students. 

Lorenz and Claude split ways once they reached the second floor offices of the main building, exchanging a quick kiss before Lorenz headed for the audience chamber, Claude for the office of the Almyran ambassador. 

Ferdinand was indeed in the audience chamber, talking quietly to his spouse, their heads put together, gentle smiles on their faces. Lorenz didn’t want to interrupt the moment, so simply waited until Byleth noticed. They gave him a smile, and Ferdinand’s attention shifted as well.

“My dearest friend,” Ferdinand said warmly. “You are here to pick up your guard?”

“Indeed I am,” Lorenz agreed as he and Ferdinand momentarily embraced. “But I was also wondering...are you busy?” Lorenz asked, his heart weirdly in his throat as he pulled back. A part of him knew that he and Claude were moving inadvisably fast when it came to their relationship, that they should court each other for at least a year, if not longer, that they had skipped huge steps in what was the normal course of noble courtship, and he was afraid Ferdinand would think less of him for it. He knew it was likely a nonsensical concern--Lorenz was the greater romantic between the two of them, but Ferdinand also had rather sweeping, grandiose ideas about romance--but Ferdinand’s opinion mattered greatly to him. 

“Not too busy to speak with you,” Ferdinand said with a smile. “Why don’t you take an early tea with me?”

“I would like that greatly,” Lorenz said, his shoulders relaxing a notch. 

“Then, come. We recently received a new shipment of tea and I’m interested in your opinion.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

After Ferdinand gave his spouse a quick kiss, he and Lorenz left the main administrative offices of Garreg Mach side-by-side, and it dawned on Lorenz that Ferdinand was  _ literally _ the only other person in existence--besides Claude--who he didn’t feel the need to engage in pointless conversation. In all other instances, Lorenz felt it only polite to provide stimulating conversation, but not with Ferdinand. They had groomed their horses and tended to their armor and weapons together, speaking only to request a tool or other supply; they had spent the lazy summer afternoons during their school days sipping tea and doing homework or studying together; and in the aftermath of the war, had frequently met just to unwind in the face of the seeming never-ending work that was part of the recovery process. Before Claude, Lorenz would have said that Ferdinand was the person he was closest to. 

“Copper for your thoughts,” Ferdinand said as they reached the kitchen’s tea cabinet.

“I was thinking about how you are my best friend,” Lorenz said. “And I don’t think I ever told you how much I appreciate your friendship.”

Ferdinand smiled at that and chuckled. “No, you did not, but I knew anyway. You said it in how I was the only person--before now, at least--whom you shared your poetry with, in how you noticed when I was running low on maintenance oil and made sure I got more before I ran out, in how you’d always replace the tea we used with extra from your own supply. It was in how you listened to me and offered support when I was lost and unsure of what  _ nobility _ truly was after I was stripped of my title and the death of my mother in Edelgard’s coup and my father to the insurrection in Hrym territory. I may not have said it either, but I am grateful for your friendship.”

“Then we must make certain to keep up correspondence once I reach the Almyran capital,” Lorenz said with a small smile. “I would not lose your friendship for anything.”

Ferdinand nodded as he selected the tea. “Indeed. I feel the same.”

They took the tea to one of the garden tables and settled, Ferdinand playing the host and pouring for both of them.

“Now, what do you wish to speak of?” Ferdinand asked.

“Ah, right. So,” Lorenz said, doing his absolute best to not squirm in his seat. “I was wondering, could you tell me which jeweler you used to obtain the ring for your spouse?”

“Oh?” Ferdinand said, his eyebrows rising sharply. “You’re interested in purchasing an  _ engagement _ ring?”

“Yes. I know it’s...I know I’m moving too fast, but…” Lorenz sighed. “I can’t imagine a life without him. I love him, Ferdinand. Desperately. He, ah, already proposed to me and I agreed, so I proposed back and  _ he _ agreed, but I didn't have a ring, so--”

Ferdinand looked absolutely  _ delighted _ before interrupting by saying, “Congratulations!”

“You...don’t think it’s too soon to commit like I am? Like we are?” Lorenz said, baffled.

“Of course not,” Ferdinand said. “You danced around each other during our time as students and during the war you were even worse. Then you show up after meeting each other again for the first time in  _ years _ and Claude wasn’t halfway subtle anymore about how he desires you. Seeing you...seeing you seem to  _ blossom _ under his affection has been a wonder.”

Lorenz felt his face burn and he looked fixedly at his teacup. “It has been a  _ wonder  _ to experience. Were we really that obvious even years ago…?”

“You were both drawn to and repulsed by each other, so it is no surprise to anyone that fascination deepened into love. You are compliment and contrast to each other, and always were. A common joke during the war was that if you two were not looking towards the future, you were looking at each other.”

“Really?” Lorenz said, flustered. “I...didn’t notice?”

“I’m not surprised,” Ferdinand chuckled. “Might I see  _ your _ engagement ring?”

“What makes you think I have one?” Lorenz said, although how his face  _ burned _ even hotter most likely gave him away. 

“You said you accepted Claude’s proposal, and he would have followed Fodlanese traditions to propose to you for you to phrase it so, which means he gave you a ring,” Ferdinand said and extended his hand. “Come, now. Let me see.”

Lorenz squirmed, but took off his gauntlet and placed his hand in Ferdinand’s to better display the ring.

“It suits you,” Ferdinand said, his voice warm as he examined the ring, turning Lorenz’s hand slightly so the opals flashed in the light. 

“That it does,” Lorenz responded and pulled his hand back, replacing his gauntlet. “I asked Claude if he wanted something with emeralds, but he said he wanted a ring that would remind him that he is to be married to  _ me _ , so wants purple stones.”

Ferdinand’s expression turned wistful and soft. “That is…”

“Cute,” Lorenz finished for Ferdinand. “I have been told that such is  _ cute _ .”

“It is,” Ferdinand agreed. “Well, let us drink our tea, then we shall go into town and I will take you to the best jeweler I know. I cannot guarantee that she will have the exact kind of ring you are looking for, but you will be staying the night, yes?”

Lorenz nodded. “I can use our journey into the town to secure rooms for me and--”

“Nonsense, you and your traveling household will stay in the Monastery for a night, we have more than enough rooms. I will ensure that you receive a room meant for two people. Just do be aware that the walls are thin--not that the inns would be much better.”

Lorenz coughed in embarrassment and took a sip of his tea to give him time to gather himself. “I will tell Claude to keep that in mind. He is...freer...with his expressions of passion than I am.”

It felt  _ weird _ talking about having sex with Claude, but if there was anyone alive whom he could gossip with about that, it was Ferdinand. His household and family members prying into his private life was invasive, but speaking of it with Ferdinand was...weirdly thrilling. 

Ferdinand chuckled. “I am not surprised.” Ferdinand’s face gained a slightly pink tinge to it and he leaned in slightly to ask, “I imagine that if you can say such a thing, then you two have…?”

“Ah, yes,” Lorenz said, certain that his face was as red as the roses he favored. “He has...he has given himself to me.”

“Has he now?” Ferdinand said. “I’m proud of you, Lorenz. I half feared that you would not allow yourself pleasure.”

“Claude is...compelling and persuasive,” Lorenz muttered to his tea, his face still burning. “And far too skilled with his mouth.”

“Is that so?” Ferdinand said with a small smirk that somehow prompted an answering smirk from Lorenz before his expression sobered.

“You don’t think that we moved too quickly? From...rival-friends to affianced in barely a month?” Lorenz asked. 

“You feel things deeply, my friend,” Ferdinand said. “I always knew that whenever you finally fell truly in love with someone, that you would not hesitate to commit. You are...afraid you are making too hasty a decision in choosing to bind yourself to Claude?”

“I…” Lorenz sighed. “Perhaps? I do not regret saying yes, do not regret asking him, and I do think I am making the right decision, but it all feels like such a whirlwind. Like I can barely get my bearings before Claude dislodges something else in me and makes me love him and want him even more than I already do. It doesn’t even feel like I’m  _ thinking _ so much anymore as…I am unsure.”

“Lorenz, you happen to be experiencing this rather romantic thing called  _ being swept off your feet. _ ”

“Oh. Is that what this is?”

“I am fairly certain, yes.”

Lorenz shook his head and said, “I did not think I would ever end up the romantic lead in a novel.”

“You deserve a storybook ending,” Ferdinand said firmly. “Now, drink your tea so we may be off.”

“Of course,” Lorenz said, amused. “I am a little disappointed that I was not able to go shopping with you for  _ your _ ring.”

“We were all very busy at the end of the war and I was so anxious about my proposal that I felt that if I told anyone that they would ask my beloved first!” Ferdinand admitted sheepishly. “They are well-loved and admired, so…”

“I understand,” Lorenz said with a wry smile. “You were not alone in your affections for the Professor.”

The tea was drank with more expediency that Lorenz would normally prefer, but soon Ferdinand was shepherding him into the town surrounding Garreg Mach. Due to their height, coloration, and notoriety as a result of the war and their positions, they were frequently stopped so someone could even  _ say _ they had met the Duke Aegir or ask if Lorenz was  _ really _ involved with the King of Almyra--a rumor that had apparently made its way downhill from the monastery;  _ whispers _ followed them. 

Eventually, Ferdinand guided him into a small, well-kempt shop with various pieces of jewelry displayed in the barred windows; a bell rang cheerfully as they entered. The shop itself smelled slightly of frankincense, and a wide variety of gems, settings, and completed pieces were displayed in and on counters. A sprightly older woman looked up from reading what Lorenz recognized as a fairly popular romance novel and gave them both a warm smile. 

“Welcome, m’lords,” she said, putting the book down and standing. “How may I help?”

“My friend here is looking for a particular kind of engagement ring,” Ferdinand said and nudged Lorenz forward. “Go on, tell her what you want.”

Lorenz straightened his tailcoat out of nervousness--he was actually doing it, he was buying Claude a ring, they were  _ going to be married _ , holy shit--and said, “Do you have anything with purple stones?”

“Purple?” she said, her eyes flicking to his own personal coloration. He could  _ see _ a tiny bit of judgement in how her eyes narrowed--she was likely thinking him egotistical. She wasn’t  _ wrong _ , since he was, but this was different.

“My beloved asked that the ring be something that would remind him that he was to marry  _ me _ ,” Lorenz clarified. “I wanted emeralds to match his eyes, but he said he would prefer a purple stone. Cost is no concern.”

Those four words were catnip to any merchant worth their salt and any judgment she may have felt towards him over marrying a man or seeming to be self-absorbed was tossed out the metaphorical window as she began to pull out pre-made rings as well as samples of gems and potential settings. Through quite a bit of haggling and more than a little arguing, Lorenz managed to craft a ring with a central purple sapphire in a rose cut with a flourish of emerald ‘leaves’ surrounding it in a gold band. Ferdinand had watched the entire time,  _ clearly _ amused and only helpful in that Lorenz was able to rein in his temper when the jeweler and his artistic visions clashed because he didn’t want to make a scene in front of his friend. He parted with a significant chunk of his funds in order to make the purchase, but Did Not Care because Claude deserved the world in his opinion, and a ring was a small but poignant statement. The finished product would be ready the next day, and Lorenz left with a promise to pick it up mid-morning. The jeweler looked both pleased and annoyed with him simultaneously, but was gracious when seeing him out.

“Well, congratulations,” Ferdinand said. “You are better at negotiating with merchants than I had thought you’d be.”

“I redid a study, so learned how to do so relatively quickly--there were plenty of merchants willing to make use of my coffers and charge double or triple what the materials were worth because of my family’s reputation,” Lorenz said. “Ferdinand?”

“Yes?”

“I...I’m really doing this. I’m going to be married to  _ Claude _ . I don’t know why it’s hitting me now, but...”

“It was an abstract before,” Ferdinand said with an understanding smile. “I was in a state of disbelief for multiple days after  _ my _ beloved agreed to bind their life to mine.”

“The great and noble Ferdinand von Aegir was surprised that someone would want to marry him?” Lorenz semi-teased.

“I should say the same for you,” Ferdinand said. “Surely Claude couldn’t find a better partner in all of Fodlan than you, so why are you so off-balance that he has chosen to marry you?”

Lorenz smiled wryly. “Point. Would you care to join my beloved and our entourage for dinner? We’re going to be using the time to get to know my protectors better.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Ferdinand replied. “I’ll pass on the invite to my spouse. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the excuse to get away from the paperwork that Seteth keeps piling on them.”

“I heard my parents’ activities created...complications,” Lorenz said hesitantly. “And that they died  _ en route _ to the Monastery….”

“Who told you?” Ferdinand asked, surprised.

“Alois. I wondered why I was getting odd looks, and so assumed my parents were being...troublesome. Instead, I’m told they’re dead.”

“Ah, yes, that was indeed the report,” Ferdinand said. “Apparently they had been relatively cooperative and sedate, so the junior Knights guarding them grew lax in their vigilance. By the time they heard Phebe dying it was too late to save either of them.”

Lorenz shook his head slowly as they made their way back towards the Monastery. “As I told Alois, I should have expected it. My mother would have never wanted to endure the spectacle and shame of a public execution.”

“And we  _ would _ have had them executed, based upon the evidence provided by you and collected by Leonie and Shamir.”

“Leonie was  _ spying  _ while at my Manse?” Lorenz said, mildly irritated for reasons he couldn’t quite place. 

“She’s good at relating to the commonfolk and getting people to talk to her,” Ferdinand said with an apologetic shrug. “Lorenz...are  _ you _ okay?”

“Am I  _ okay _ ?” Lorenz repeated and ran his fingers through his hair. “My parents are  _ dead _ . It...it doesn’t seem  _ real _ . For two people who were such juggernauts in my life to just be gone seems inconceivable. I may have even passed their graves and simply  _ not known _ .”

Ferdinand rested a hand on Lorenz’s shoulder, and Lorenz covered his hand with his own--he hadn’t known how  _ comforting _ touch could be until Claude, who seemed incapable of  _ not _ touching him.

“You are a very strong person,” Ferdinand said after a few moments of silence.

“That means a great deal, coming from you,” Lorenz said with a wan smile. 

“I mean it,” Ferdinand insisted. 

“I know,” Lorenz replied. “Is there anything I can help you with today? I’d like to spend a little more time with you, since the goddess only knows when we will see each other next.”

“Let me tell my spouse about dinner tonight, and then I might simply take the rest of the day off to catch up with you. I am quite interested in hearing exactly how your romance with Claude unfolded, since I learned mostly through rumors and what little you told me.”

“It is...indeed a story,” Lorenz admitted, chuckling slightly.

“Did I help at all when you came to me asking about your feelings surrounding Claude?”

“You helped, yes,” Lorenz confirmed. “Although it was still mildly bewildering. I kissed him first, you know.”

“No!  _ You _ did?”

“He was being so nice! I had to both thank him and shut him up.”

“Now  _ this _ I must hear.”

It was strange, gossiping to Ferdinand about how his relationship with Claude had steadily escalated, but also felt...nice. They were mature and dignified as they walked through the grounds of the Monastery and told the Professor about their dinner plans before sequestering themselves with tea and snacks to exchange stories about their relationships and engage in a pleasant and amusing one-upmanship surrounding how wonderful their significant others were. 

Lorenz, for a little bit, had the distinct feeling of being  _ watched _ , but figured it was Claude just checking in on him, so ignored it. 

Lorenz and Ferdinand’s conversation wandered across many topics as the afternoon unfurled, from memories of their school days, to the pressure of current events, to their hopes and dreams for the future, and their relationships. It made Lorenz feel a little sad that he would be leaving Fodlan entirely, and thus less able to have such a leisurely afternoon of tea and conversation, but that just meant he had to be good about keeping up correspondence. 

They had not run out of things to say even at the dinner bell, and continued a cordial, petty debate over whose beloved had prettier green eyes as they walked, both waxing extremely poetic and into purple-prose territory, earning them more than a few snickers from passers-by. 

They were the last to arrive at the section of table that had been claimed for them, as they had to return the tea set, but Lorenz didn’t mind. It seemed as if Claude was getting along with his (Lorenz’s) future guards swimmingly,  _ and  _ he had managed to locate and rope Lorenz’s traveling household into dinner as well. 

Lorenz grabbed some food from the hot line, then slid into a spot that was conspicuously empty next to Claude, who gave him an amused smile before pulling him into a quick kiss.

“Have a good day, my love?” Claude asked, ignoring the  _ numerous _ eye-rolls around the table.

“I did,” Lorenz confirmed as Ferdinand took his own seat next to the Professor. “Was your day...productive? How are the Almyran ambassador and his children adapting to Fodlan?”

“Well enough, really, all things considered,” Claude responded. “He gave me some letters to deliver back in Almyra to some rather influential people. I think he expects me to read them, considering they aren’t  _ sealed _ …”

Conversation quickly shifted from the present to the future, and it wasn’t hard to get a read on any of his protectors. Ella was much more gregarious than her older brother and had an unfortunate, and apparently chronic, case of foot-in-mouth disease, having to walk back or clarify easily misconstrued statements plenty of times. 

Tyr was as stoic as his sister, except where Ella was involved; they bickered like siblings, even though Lorenz knew they had grown up separately. It was charming, in a way, to see people so affectionately get on each other’s nerves.

Leonard had as much tact as Leonie did, which was to say, very little, and spoke of her with the same kind of hero-worship that Leonie had for Jeralt--the two were, apparently, second-cousins and many in her family now aspired to the same kind of fame that Leonie had achieved through the war. 

Arianna was quiet and intense, speaking much less than her mates, but whenever she  _ did _ talk, it was often pithy and bitingly witty. They all seemed to get along, however, and each of them carried themselves capably. None were mages or clerics, so Lorenz would have to do the heavy lifting magically unless someone showed interest in learning from him. That was the sole downside that Lorenz could see in the entire arrangement, but it was likely better that they didn’t bring  _ too _ many magically-inclined people into a country that feared magic. He and Lysithea would stick out painfully as it was. 

Conversation lasted long past the time they were finished eating, but eventually Lorenz excused himself--and Claude, of course--pleading fatigue. Byleth had told them where they would all be staying the night, and Lorenz was both amused and impressed to find that he had been given what he knew was temporarily-visiting-dignitary rooms. They were certainly nicer--and larger--than the dorms.

“Well, that was a fun dinner, Claude said and stretched as they entered. “But I am looking forward to a  _ bed _ .”

Lorenz chuckled in complete agreement and, after locking the door, pulled Claude into a gentle embrace and pressed a kiss to his temple. 

“Were you successful, by the way?” Claude asked as he leaned back into Lorenz’s embrace, kissing his neck. “In your hunt for my engagement ring.”

“It will be ready tomorrow,” Lorenz said. “I look forward to you wearing it.”

“I sort of don’t,” Claude said. “Because it means you’ll stop waking me up by marking me.”

“...there is no reason I can’t continue to do that. Do you really enjoy it that much?”

“Dear gods, Lorenz, it’s torture and I love it,” Claude semi-laughed. “It makes it so hard to not become aroused randomly. Particularly when you manage to leave a mark along a seam of my clothing so it’s constantly being rubbed against and reminding me of its presence. Now that we have a  _ bed _ again...”

“Ferdinand mentioned that the walls are thin,” Lorenz said as Claude squirmed enough to get him (Lorenz) to release him (Claude), only to turn in his arms and loop his arms around Lorenz’s neck. “So you’ll have to be a bit quieter.”

“Bah, I don’t care,” Claude said and ran his fingers through Lorenz’s hair. “Let them hear how good you make me feel. If someone complains, it’s not like we aren’t leaving tomorrow. My body has been  _ aching _ ever since I found out what it feels like to have you inside me.”

Lorenz felt his face heat and he said, “Really? I don’t think I was  _ that _ good…”

“I have no point of comparison and I felt pretty damn good,” Claude said cheerfully. “I was thinking maybe we could try out some more positions?”

Lorenz felt his face heat further as Claude ran his finger through his (Lorenz’s) hair. “I...suppose we could. What exactly do you have in mind?”

“You’re going to be the one moving in me this time,” Claude said. “Think you can manage that or would it bring up bad memories?”

Lorenz shook his head slowly. “I should be fine. I know...I know I can give you pleasure now, and that is...reassuring.”

“That you can,” Claude confirmed. “So, I was thinking that first you take me while I’m on my back, and once we’ve recovered--or decide we want a different position--then you can take me while I’m on my hands and knees. How’s that sound to you?”

It sounded wonderful and was making Lorenz’s pants uncomfortably tight.

“I...do not guarantee that I will be any good,” Lorenz said. “So please forgive me if that is indeed so.”

“If it’s bad this time, that just means it can get better  _ and _ is incentive for practice,” Claude said with a wink. “After all, you’ve gotten  _ much _ better from the first time we kissed, so I have high hopes for your sexual prowess.”

Lorenz hadn’t thought he could blush more, but he did, and Claude didn’t bother to restrain a snicker before nudging him into a languid, deep, torrid kiss.

It promised to be a long, fulfilling night.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter! 
> 
> There are no content warnings for this chapter. You do get your first glimpse into the Almyra I am building, however, all the Fodlanese people who will be making the trek into the country are gathered as of this installment. Thank you to everyone for reading, kudos-ing, bookmaring, commenting--I like knowing I'm not shouting into the void.
> 
> As always, nothing FE:3H belongs to me.

Claude no longer wore his gloves because he wanted everyone to be able to see his engagement ring, and it was dreadfully embarrassing for Lorenz. Lorenz had presented him with the ring during their first shared watch on the road, and Claude had promptly put it on, then dragged him away from camp to give him some of the best fellatio Lorenz had yet experienced, leaving him heavily relying on Claude as they walked back to camp once Claude had had his fill because of how weak his legs felt. 

He was  _ certain _ the others had heard, but they were all wise enough to not comment. 

They were coming up on Riverton, and while Lorenz’s back ached for a bed, he didn’t want to take up the number of rooms necessary to house the traveling circus that was his escort. Most inns weren’t equipped to handle wyvern, and he didn’t want to have to pay for anyone’s horse who was accidentally injured or eaten. Still, they at least needed to stop to replenish their water supply; Cyril, Lysithea, Arianna, and Catherine agreed to stay outside the town with their flying mounts while Shamir, Lorenz, Claude, Tyr, Leonard, and Ella would go into town and refill everyone’s water and obtain lunch that was something other than travel rations. They should be in and out in under an hour.

Should.

_ That _ expectation was immediately shot to hell when they rode into town to find Caspar and Linhardt caught up in what looked to be Caspar confronting--and defeating--the leaders of the underground crime syndicate that Lorenz hadn’t managed to eradicate. That he was pummeling them into the ground with his bare hands was both extremely barbaric, yet apparently effective, given the pile of unconscious bodies that Linhardt had dragged away from the main conflict zone.

“Dear Goddess,” Lorenz sighed as Claude laughed quietly. 

“Oh, it’s going to be  _ interesting  _ traveling with him, won’t it?” Claude said with a lop-sided grin.

“What’s going on?” Tyr asked, his hand going towards his side, where his lance was bound to his borrowed horse.

“There’s one guy against all those other dudes! We have to help!” Ella cried.

“Wait, Ella--!” Tyr started, but the young woman had already grabbed her bow and kicked her horse towards where Caspar looked like he was about to be overwhelmed.

“Excuse me, m’lords, I have to make sure she doesn’t get herself killed,” Tyr said without taking a breath as he unhooked his lance and followed close behind Ella. 

“Hey, don’t have fun without me!” Leonard called out and unsheathed his sword as he followed.

“Ah, the vigor of the young,” Claude sighed.

“We’re not that old,” Lorenz drawled, although Shamir did chuckle. “I suppose it’s good that they’re helping? I’ve been trying to disrupt the crime syndicate that has a stranglehold on the poorer neighborhood for years now, but have had limited success. They’re simply taking care of the problem more directly. I just hope it doesn’t open a power vacuum that allows someone  _ worse _ to rise to power.”

With the addition of the three Knights to the melee, the battle ended quickly and in the defeat of the crime leaders and their lackeys; the Knights were at least skilled and intelligent enough to not  _ kill _ the leaders outright.

“Are you going to interrogate them?” Shamir asked as they watched the mayor and city guard break through the crowd that had gathered and start speaking to the Knights and Caspar; they were too far away to hear what was being said, however.

“No,” Lorenz said. “I trust the city government to handle it; they are, for the most part, not corrupt. I kept tabs on Riverton enough to discern and dispense with those who were. I’m also not entirely convinced that Caspar hasn’t knocked all sense out of them anyway.”

Shamir smirked ever so slightly, which Lorenz had come to know as the expression closest to laughter for her--after all, where there was Catherine there was usually Shamir, and Catherine was a frequent training partner of his during the war, so he had come to understand Shamir’s expressions. 

“Hopefully they won’t go charging in to intervene in every situation,” Lorenz sighed. “I imagine that could become rather fraught rather quickly when in Almyra.”

“They’re all doing really well with learning the Almyran language, but, yeah, I’ll need to sit them all down and explain certain  _ cultural expectations _ to them so they don’t end up sticking their noses where they’ll only get cut off.”

Lorenz shook his head and clucked to Shadow, who started off into the town. “Let’s get our lunch; we’ll pick up our escort, Caspar, and Linhardt at City Hall, which is where the jail is  _ and _ where they’ll likely be questioned for their involvement. They likely won’t be there for long, since they’re wearing the armor of the Knights of Seiros, but it’s procedure.”

“Ah, red tape,” Claude sighed mockingly as he followed. “A constant among all governments.”

Lorenz was still immediately recognizable, but too many people were invested in and intrigued by Caspar von Bergliez and how he, along with Knights of Seiros who swooped in from seemingly nowhere, defeated the crime syndicate that had long plagued the city, to pay him much attention. It was actually nice, having a relatively quiet lunch with Shamir and Claude; Claude managed to make the normally taciturn mercenary almost  _ chatty _ . He supposed it had something to do with both of them being outsiders in Fodlan and from formerly hostile nations. Lorenz simply listened and sipped mediocre wine, since there was no tea available at the tavern; although, he also feared that him speaking would give away that Claude was treading the line of  _ inappropriate _ with how he (Claude) was stroking his (Lorenz’s) thigh with the hand closer to Lorenz.

Because they took their time and no one rushed them due to recognizing Lorenz, their escort found them first, a slightly battered but swaggering Caspar and exasperated, forever-done Linhardt in tow.

“Sorry about that, m’lords,” Tyr apologized, the only one amongst the group to look a bit ashamed. 

“Oh, come on, we were  _ thanked _ by the mayor,” Ella pointed out. “Er, you’re not angry with us for doing the right thing? Right?”

“I coulda handled them all, but I really appreciated the help, so don’t be too pissed at them,” Caspar said, throwing his arms around Leonard and Ella’s shoulders, grinning.

“I’m not angry,” Lorenz said after voicing a quiet sigh. “I’ve been trying to take care of that group for years and made only minimal headway, so I appreciate you tackling the problem head-on. Just be aware that once we are in Almyra, the guilty party might not be so clear, so I will ask that the Knights assigned to me remember that they are serving as representatives of Fodlan as a whole to the Almyran people and thus will be held to the highest standards of knightly behavior.”

That chastened Leonard and Ella slightly as Tyr’s pale face pinked with a blush. 

“We will, sir. Er, m’lord,” Leonard said, his fingers stroking with the pommel of his sword in what was clearly a nervous gesture. 

“Now, come and join us as we finish lunch,” Lorenz said and gestured that they sit--he had requested a table big enough to fit them all. He took a sip of his wine as they settled with a clatter of armor, which thankfully covered his hiccuped  _ eep _ when Claude’s hand slipped to the  _ inside _ of his thigh; he recovered himself, resisted glaring at Claude, then said: “Report.”

The single word snapped both Tyr and Ella into work-mode, and they gave a comprehensive run-down of both the battle and its aftermath, with Leonard and Caspar adding the occasional color commentary. Linhardt just ate his food and looked rather put-upon by the whole mess. Lorenz, for once, understood the feeling. 

“Oh, by the way, we ran into Hilda and Marianne in the City Hall,” Linhardt said, gesturing lazily with a fork. “They will apparently be joining the traveling troupe that you have going on, at least until the paths split for Fodlan’s Locket and Edmund territory.”

“Oh. Wonderful,” Lorenz lied badly. He was desperately missing the days of traveling alone with Claude. “Did they get hung up here? I probably mentioned Riverton to Marianne when I was detailing Alliance issues to her.”

“They didn’t say,” Linhardt replied. “Ask her yourself when you see her next.”

“I will,” Lorenz replied, trying to wrangle his annoyance with how Linhardt responded. He wasn’t  _ entirely _ certain what it was that irritated him so much about the other man, but he seemed to get under his skin by simply  _ existing _ . 

“Man, this food is  _ delicious _ ,” Caspar enthused once they received their meals.

“Caspar, chew with your mouth  _ closed _ ,” Linhardt sighed.

Lunch was a much livelier affair after that, and many of the townspeople swung by to thank both Caspar and the Knights--with a kind of second-hand thanks to Lorenz, since it was apparently assumed that he finally got frustrated with how slow things were moving and involved the Knights. Lorenz felt no need to correct them, so simply accepted the thanks. He did eventually have to grab Claude’s wrist and pointedly place his hand on the bench they were sitting on, because if Claude kept on  _ touching _ him, he’d have to delay their departure so he could drag Claude to a secluded corner and kiss him into incoherence at  _ least _ . 

Once Lorenz had paid for their food--he was surprised at how low the amount was, given the amount of people and food consumed, but the proprietor wouldn’t take any more than what was billed to him--they headed out into the market and purchased enough to replenish their supplies, and met up with Marianne and Hilda as they, too, were browsing for their own supplies.

The first thing Hilda noticed upon seeing them was the ring on Claude’s finger, and her eyes immediately darted to Lorenz, a question in her gaze. Lorenz felt his face burn and he nodded. 

The exasperated affection that entered her expression was mildly reassuring; apparently she wasn’t surprised that in the small amount of time they had been apart that he and Claude had fully and formally committed to each other. She extended her hand to him and, guessing what she wanted, Lorenz took off his gauntlet and held the hand which he wore his ring on out to her. She turned his hand so the opals flashed in the light before she nodded. 

“They are both very pretty...and relatively non-traditional for men,” she said with a smile as Lorenz put his gauntlet back on. Claude beamed, clearly pleased that Hilda, who was known for her jewelry and accessories, approved of his choice in design.

“I wanted to get Claude something with more emeralds, but he insisted on a purple stone, so…” Lorenz said, his face still dreadfully warm as he re-intertwined his fingers with Claude’s. “You don’t seem upset with me…?”

“How can I be when you two are stupidly in love with each other?” she sighed dramatically. “Although I thought you were going to wait until you got to the Almyran capital.”

“I told him my love for him is not predicated on the opinions of others and that no matter how his family or people treated me, that it would not change. So, given that he  _ already _ had the ring on him…”

Hilda snorted. “Of course he did. Always planning five steps ahead, aren’t you?”

The question was directed to Claude, who simply shrugged and smirked.

“Apparently he had a whole seduction of me planned out that I very thoroughly ruined rather quickly,” Lorenz said, and Claude’s face darkened slightly.

Hilda laughed softly at that and shook her head. “You look so proud of that ring, too. It’s simpler than I would have expected.”

“Well, don’t want it catching on my gloves or bowstring, right?” Claude said.

“It’s a purple sapphire,” Lorenz elaborated.

“Ah, simple but  _ pricey _ ,” Hilda replied.

“I would have preferred a purple diamond, but the jeweler was not carrying any.”

“Diamonds come in purple?”

“They’re exceedingly rare, but, yes, they do,” Loren said. “Will you be going to Goneril territory with us or with your fiancee to her home?”

“We’re doing a rather leisurely tour of all the major holdings in the Alliance, just to introduce Marianne to the people and get her more used to her having power and people deferring to her and her judgement.”

“And things have been going well so far?”

“More-or-less,” Hilda hedged. “You did a really good job of keeping everyone and everything in line, but Marianne rules...differently...than you, so it’s a bit of a perspective shift for a lot of the minor lords. At least they’re used to having the Professor as Sovereign, so are less likely to balk at a woman holding power.”

“But you’re still running into...problematic people?”

“No one who I can’t handle,” Hilda said, a dangerous edge entering her voice before her expression shifted to a smile. “It’s  _ so _ much more work than I ever wanted to deal with though.”

“You are a capable woman; I am sure with you by her side, Marianne’s rule will be a prosperous and fair one.”

“Aw, aren’t you sweet?” Hilda said and lightly patted Lorenz’s upper arm. “I’m looking forward to hearing all about Almyra from you. Our family was always ordered to only guard, never pursue, so no one in my family as ever actually crossed the border. You’ll have to let me know all about what the fashion is like.”

“I’m sure Claude would be happy to send you samples of what is in style,” Lorenz chuckled. “Perhaps you could share them with Dorothea? You could become trendsetters in Fodlan and Brigid.”

“Dorothea’s way more elegant than I am,” Hilda said as she shook her head. “But if you  _ insist _ , you have to make sure all the outfits are cute.”

“Of course.”

“Naturally,” Claude added, having seemed content to listen prior. “Only the cutest of outfits for Hilda Valentine Goneril-Edmund.”

“When do Almyrans usually hold their weddings?” Hilda asked, her face flushing closer to the color of her hair at the use of the last name. 

“Only on auspicious days, so there’s no one  _ season _ . It’s based on the birthdays of the two to be wed, so I’ll have to convert Lorenz’s birthday into the Almyran calendar.”

“You use a different calendar?” Hilda asked.

“Of course,” Claude responded. “Why would we count Imperial Years when we didn’t even recognize Fodlan had three separate factions?”

“Wait, there was no recognition of the Alliance versus the Kingdom or Empire?” Lorenz said, mildly insulted.

“To many higher-up Almyrans, Fodlan was an annoyance at best, someplace for our young soldiers to cut their teeth on combat against almost comically weak opponents. Very few cared about the internal political dynamics of Fodlan,” Claude said with an apologetic shrug. “Not when the countries to our east were much more threatening. I hope they haven’t acted up in my absence.”

“All the more reason to make our way to the Locket swiftly,” Lorenz said, frowning slightly. He saw everyone else approaching and looked away from Claude to say: “You have obtained all the necessary supplies?”

“Yes, m’lords,” Tyr confirmed.

“Then let us be on our way,” Lorenz said.

Marianne had her own horse that she rode double with Hilda, the stallion easily bearing both of their weight. After a bit of discussion, Claude gave up Spot to Linhardt and Caspar--since neither had a horse of their own--and Claude moved to sharing Shadow with Lorenz. Shadow flicked an ear in annoyance at the double-rider, but wouldn’t let a gelding or another stallion show him up, so treated the addition of Claude as if he were as light--and as annoying--as a fly. Lorenz very pointedly had Claude sit in front of him, since he distinctly remembered Claude mentioning being  _ inappropriate _ while riding double, and didn’t want to give him even the ghost of an opportunity to be so. Claude’s disappointed pout told Lorenz that he had been wise to insist.

Catherine was amused to find their party having grown by four people in their absence, while Arianna was giving Caspar the most piercing, puzzled look. 

“Is something on my face?” Caspar asked, noticing her gaze.

“Are you...Caspar?” Arianna asked cautiously.

“Yup, that’s me!” he said with an unsure grin. Apparently there had been enough misadventures that he had learned that being immediately recognizable was no longer the  _ best _ thing. 

Arianna’s eyes widened and she laughed, clapping her hands in delight. “Petra told me much about you! Small man, big energy.”

Caspar flinched in surprise and said, “Hey, I’m not that short anymore!”

“Perhaps, but you’re still shorter than me,” Linhardt said, causing Caspar to huff in indignation.

“It is pleased to meet you,” Arianna said, then paused, rewound the sentence in her head and corrected herself: “I am pleased to meet you.”

“Oh, uh, cool! Nice to meet you, too. How d’you know Petra?”

“We are family,” Arianna said and landed her borrowed pegasus next to Spot. The pegasus folded its wings close to its body and continued on foot; while clearly not preferred, it didn’t have to do the odd sort of bunny-hop/lumber that grounded wyvern did. Tyr distributed lunch to the people who remained behind, and they started off again. 

If it had been noisy before, it only became worse with the addition of four more people; it didn’t help that Hilda was a bit of an enabler for Caspar’s antics, and Leonard seemed to thrive on exactly the same kind of chaos, and the stories the two men bantered back and forth were becoming increasingly ridiculous. Linhardt eventually grew tired of how noisy Caspar was being, so turned Caspsar’s head towards him and kissed him into silence. 

Caspar looked a mixture of stunned and pleased, but stayed quiet, leaning back into Linhardt’s body and seeming to settle. Linhardt looked rather satisfied with himself and sat up a little bit straighter while Hilda giggled, Marianne’s face slightly pink. 

“If the Margravine is blushing at just  _ that _ , how did she survive you two when you got  _ frisky _ ?” Desdemona drawled in a stage whisper to Lorenz.

Lorenz snorted as Claude snickered. 

“We are capable of behaving,” Lorenz said, although that was immediately disproven by how Claude tilted his head back to press a kiss to the junction of Lorenz’s jaw and ear, momentarily flicking his tongue out to taste Lorenz’s skin.  _ That _ earned Claude a pinch to his thigh, which made him jolt forward and sit up slightly straighter; Desdemona snickered as Shadow flicked an ear back in annoyance at their antics.

“Hey, there you are slowpokes! Thought we’d end up getting to the Locket before you.”

Lorenz looked up from Claude to see Leonie and Ignatz standing at the side of the road, Ignatz with an easel and paper out, clearly painting something with rather intense concentration, since he didn’t react to his wife’s hailing them. 

Lorenz frowned, then dimly recalled that Leonie and Ignatz were supposed to join them, and his shoulders dropped a bit. It was about to become even noisier, if the star-struck look on Leonard’s face indicated anything. 

“I miss traveling with just you,” Lorenz growled in Claude’s ear, unable to fully rein in his irritation.

He felt Claude shiver in his arms and Claude said, quickly and a little breathlessly, “Please don’t use that voice on me in public.”

“Is that a request...or an order?” Lorenz said in the same tone, feeling weirdly impish. He didn’t fluster Claude  _ that _ easily, so it was a pleasant surprise whenever he did.

“Order!” Claude said in a strangled gasp. “It’s an  _ order _ . From your king.”

Lorenz pulled back and sat up correctly in his saddle, although he could see that Claude had moved his hands from holding onto the pommel of the saddle as a place to put his hands to rather pointedly trying to conceal his crotch with the free end of his sash.

Leonie recognized Leonard and quickly brought him down a few pegs by dragging out some embarrassing childhood stories that had Ella crying as she laughed, Tyr’s face red with effort to not be doing the same.

“You’ll be coming with us, or shall we proceed and you’ll catch up when Ignatz is done his painting?” Lorenz asked.

“He’ll be done soon,” Leonie said. “After all, he was painting  _ you _ all approaching. You’re certainly taking your time.”

“It was too arresting a picture to  _ not _ paint,” Ignatz said as he accidentally smeared yellow on his cheek. “I can put the finishing touches on it later.”

“It was the size of our group that delayed us, not any unfortunate run-ins with bandits or the like,” Lorenz said as they waited long enough for Ignatz to securely and correctly pack away his paints and hang his painting to dry on a special attachment to his horse’s saddle.

“Most bandits won’t attack a group with Knights of Seiros, I’d imagine,” Claude said. “Unfortunately, that protection won’t last terribly far into Almyra. Now that we have everyone here, I should explain a bit about what you’ll all be walking--or riding, really--into.”

Everyone seemed to organically fall into a rough circle around Claude and Lorenz as they rode, half their attention on the road and the rest on Claude.

“The Almyran Army, Navy, and Wyvern Corps that have regularly harried the Fodlanese border are...different...than the typical armed forces,” Claude said. “There is something about Fodlan that makes our more advanced weaponry simply  _ stop working _ , so while all soldiers are trained in the traditional use of bows and axes, you’ll only see swords or other martial weaponry on nobles, eccentrics, and people living on the very fringes of civilization. Most soldiers stationed outside the Fodlanese border also don’t wear plate armor, simply because it isn’t effective and is actually more of a liability in combat.”

“But, we’re the Knights of Seiros! The armor is a gift upon attaining Knighthood,” Ella protested.

“I’m not saying you should take it off,” Claude said. “You’ll get a lot of stares and whispers, but you are all  _ obviously _ foreign, so you’d be getting that anyway. There’s something I want to test when we reach the Almyran fortress outside Fodlan’s Locket.”

“Oh yeah?” Leonie said, her curiosity blatant.

“I want to know if the interference with our technology is caused by something special about Fodlan’s geography or if it’s something more to do with its  _ people _ ,” Claude said. “Because if it’s something about you that makes our technology act up, we might have to get to the capital in a way other than what I was intending.”

“I thought we were going on horseback?” Lorenz said.

“For part of the way, yes,” Claude said. “It’ll take a week to get to the first outpost that has a--” Claude used an Almyran phrase that Lorenz couldn’t hope to translate, “--and I was planning to take one from there, since it’ll cut back on the travel time while also increasing our safety.”

“What’s a  _ train station _ ?” Ella said, parroting the phrase back flawlessly. 

“It’s...complicated,” Claude sighed. “Let’s just say that because Almyra doesn’t have magic, we figured out other ways to do things that will seem like magic to you, but that they don’t seem to work anywhere near Fodlan. It’s a miracle our--” another untranslatable word--“at the fortress works.”

“ _ Telegraph _ ?” Ella parroted back.

Claude took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not an engineer and I think my Fodlanese blood makes things malfunction when around me, so I never was instructed in technology the same way most royals would have been. When we’re deeper into Almyra and start coming across things that are new and strange to you, I want you to tell me what you find interesting and I’ll eventually find someone amongst my advisors who can explain it to you. Assuming that  _ you _ don’t cause things to simply  _ break _ due to being full-Fodlanese.”

“Huh,” Catherine said as she circled leisurely above them. “Think it has something to do with our Crests?”

“I can only assume as much,” Claude responded.

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem for me and Leonard and Ignatz and Leonie since we don’t have Crests,” Ella said. 

“That’s what I want to find out,” Claude said. “So when we’re at the fortress, I’ll see how a  _ light bulb _ reacts to each of you.”

“ _ Light bulb _ ?”

“Ah...we figured out how to harness lightning,” Claude said. “Sort of.”

“Whoa,  _ really _ ?” Leonard said, fascinated. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” Claude said. “Like I said, I wasn’t allowed near many pieces of delicate technology because they started to break if I hung around too long. But, we should pass through a town that hosts our largest national university, so I can probably recruit a scholar to explain things to you.”

“Oooh, the plot thickens,” Desdemona said as she bounced a bit in her saddle. “ _ Light bulbs _ and  _ train stations _ and  _ telegraphs _ and tamed lightning! It all sounds so exotic and cool and this is going to be so awesome!” Her enthusiasm quickly dampened, however. “Aw, but I won’t be able to send any of it back to Gloucester Manse because it’ll break in Fodlan. I bet no one will believe my letters.”

“Now, now, I’ll corroborate everything you say,” Lorenz said and reached over to pat Desdemona’s head. “And if they’re hearing it from the former Count and former Head Maid, surely they’ll believe us.”

Desdemona shook her head, clearly not entirely believing the statement. “What else, Your Majesty? What other things will there be?”

Claude looked momentarily overwhelmed as Ella, Desdemona, Henry, and Leonard all jumped in on questioning him about the magical-non-magic things they’d be coming across; as Claude struggled to describe the tools and machines that were apparently edging into common use in Almyra, Lorenz tried to figure out Fodlanese translations.

_ I suppose it would be best to see these things in person first, and then come up with the Fodlanese word, _ Lorenz thought.  _ But, would it be even necessary, if coming into contact with someone with even half-Fodlanese blood can cause them to...malfunction? _

“Copper for your thoughts, my love,” Claude said once the questions tapered off and the group was excitedly discussing amongst themselves.

“I was thinking of what to call these things you are describing in Fodlanese,” Lorenz said. “After all, we will need new words for them, but I think I would like to see them in person first, and then I can send Ferdinand a list of new words and what they indicate. Perhaps Ignatz would be so kind as to add his drawing skills and provide sketches, if possible, of these things?”

“It would certainly be different than what I’m used to drawing,” Ignatz said, frowning as he considered the pseudo-request.

“Oh, I can send schematics along with your new vocabulary list,” Claude said. “I’m sure Hanneman would be fascinated and might even try to make something like them that use Crest-energy or magic.”

“He already is hard at work on creating tools that even Crest-less individuals can utilize fully,” Lorenz said. “We spoke about his work because he was running low on funding. I, unfortunately, did not have any resources to provide at the time due to the reconstruction efforts, but I believe Marianne subsidized him for a little bit…”

“I’d really be interested in seeing how he’d create a kind of magic work-around,” Claude said. 

“...out of curiosity, what is ‘advanced’ Almyran weaponry?” Shamir asked. 

“ _ Firearms _ ,” Claude responded. “They are...oh, how to explain it. Instead of using bows and arrows, we use just the metal tips and create controlled explosions inside hollow metal tubes that makes the tips fly very quickly and decently far. They’re effective in most cases, but soldiers are still taught melee weaponry because  _ firearms _ can run out of ammunition and easily misfire if you don’t know how to use one correctly..”

“So, they’re just, like, fancy bows?” Leonie asked.

“Yes and no,” Claude responded. “They can be much more lethal because certain kinds of ammunition can ‘bloom’ inside a person and cause a lot more damage than an arrow could. The idea is the same, though, I suppose. I’ve never been able to use one because everything simply locks in place or doesn’t ignite properly whenever I attempted to learn. The lack of  _ canons _ is actually what tipped me off more than anything else that the pirates who attacked Derdiru during our time as students weren't Almyran. If they were Almyran ships, they would have had  _ canon _ ports, even if they were never used.”

“ _ Canons _ ?”

“Larger versions of  _ firearms _ .”

“Huh,” Leonie said.

“Sounds like an interesting challenge,” Shamir murmured.

“Sounds boring as fuck,” Catherine yawned. “Where’s the fun in just shooting someone from a distance? They can play dead that way and escape or try to kill you when you’re not looking.”

Shamir shook her head in disapproval. “It’s safer and more effective to take down your opponent from afar.”

“I’ll never understand snipers,” Catherine said with a shrug as her circles on her pegasus grew wider. 

“So, our armor won’t be enough to protect us?” Tyr asked, frowning as he patted his chestplate pensively.

“Unless the person is an  _ exceedingly _ good shot, you should be fine,” Claude said carefully. “And if they make the mistake of getting in too close, I’m pretty sure that Lysithea or my fiance using any kind of magic will immediately disrupt everything.”

“I-if you don’t have healing magic, wh-what do you do when someone gets s-sick?” Ophelia asked.

“Manuela would be envious of our medical knowledge,” Claude said, seeming more than a little proud of his country. “We can’t create the same kind of miracles that Fodlanese people can, but I like to think our doctors are better. You might actually get along with some of them. We use a lot of plants to make a wide variety of medicine. Perhaps they will even find medicinal use for the plants you’ve brought along with you!”

The group continued to grill Claude about what they’d encounter in Amyra once outside of Fodlan’s influence late into the afternoon and until Claude begged them to stop due to a hoarse throat. As they settled down for the night, Cyril came over, a frown pinching his eyebrows together.

“I don’t remember any of what ya talked about,” he said, sitting down a respectful distance from Lorenz (and Claude, who had naturally taken up a spot in Lorenz’s lap). 

“Well, you said you were captured during a fight near the Fodlanese border,” Claude said. “You wouldn’t get the kind of technology near the border--it simply breaks too often to be useful.”

Cyril hummed and stared at the ground in thought. “Huh. Well, I’m looking forward to finding out if the treaty has kept people from doing stupid raids.”

“Trust me, I’m anticipating the same thing,” Claude said, his voice growing slightly harder. “If I find out people have been testing the limits of the treaty…”

Cyril laughed softly. “You really are serious about peace, aren’t ya?”

“Peace gives people time to focus on inventions and medicines that  _ help _ instead of  _ harm _ , and people have more in common then they realize,” Claude said as his fingers lightly ran along the seam of Lorenz’s pants. “It’s just a matter of getting to the point of  _ willingly _ seeing eye-to-eye. I have my gaze set on our eastern neighbors once I’ve settled in the capital again. I’d employ Fodlanese mercenaries if I could, because they wouldn’t be expecting  _ magic _ , and that would make them back down and extend diplomacy, if just to figure out what the hell was going on. But, magic means our strongest weapons stop working, so…”

“With a greater Fodlanese presence and working hand-in-hand with Hanneman, perhaps you’ll manage to find a way to marry the two,” Shamir said. “You’re doing that literally anyway.”

Claude held out his hand to admire his ring very deliberately and smirked, “So I am.”

There were good-natured snickers as everyone started to settle in for the night, Lysithea arguing with Leonie over how many vegetables to put in their soup. 


End file.
